The Tables Turned
by Acacia4
Summary: Severus Snape, professor, scholar and ex-death eater is faced with his greatest challenge yet - a Yankee seventh year whom he secretly adores. Pretty fluffy, but sprinkled with substance. Please R
1. One

One  
  
"Miss McMathewes," he called from the front of the room, his voice bouncing off the stone walls like a trumpet. "Just what do you think you are doing?"  
  
I jumped visibly before looking up from the leather bound notebook, full of scribbles regarding everything and anything but the potions lesson at hand. I slowly met his penetrating gaze, trying my best to infuse my eyes with pure innocence. A very famous muggle had once said that you could influence a weaker person's thoughts by projecting your own. A word of wisdom, if I may: It's rubbish. Ok, two words. But I was naïve and hopeful, which are really one and the same, and so I put all my faith in the Jedi mind trick and thought hard to myself, "I'm taking notes. I'm taking notes."  
  
"Writing notes, I see."  
  
"No, taking notes," I thought. But I said nothing. My mind was screaming at me that silence implies guilt, but as usual I told it to stifle itself and went right on with what I was doing, which was staring at Professor Snape with innocence - infused eyes and confusion scrawled across my face. To the impartial observer I was the picture of virtue, wrongly accused of a heinous act for which there was no proof. I wished Dumbledore were my teacher at the moment.  
  
"Bring them here, then," he instructed disinterestedly. I paled. These notes? To him? This could not be happening. Professor Snape was asking to see my notes, which weren't, in actuality, notes at all, but rather an entire journal virtually overflowing with digressions on my secret admiration of a certain - someone.  
  
Thinking quickly, if not a bit frantically, I slammed the book shut and tossed it behind me, all the while staring ahead of me at my very Byron - looking potions master. I heard the book hit a candelabra, which then hit the floor with a mighty crash. I winced. That was going to make this entire innocence argument quite hard to pull off.  
  
"Bring you..what, Professor," I asked sweetly, twiddling my thumbs and rolling my teal eyes heavenward. The Hufflepuffs giggled politely while the members of my own house, Ravenclaw, simply rolled their eyes in disgust. I wondered, as an aside, how that sorting hat could have been so damnably wrong about me. I didn't belong in Ravenclaw. Oh well. Now was not the time to be considering my placement of house.  
  
My American accent was not going to help my case much either. I got the distinct impression that Mr. Byron up there was not too fond of us yanks. Well, I wasn't entirely fond of my Yankee heritage myself. But that is, as they say, the way the ball drops. Nothing I could do about it now.  
  
Normally Snape would have collected the book and proceeded to read it aloud to the entire class, successfully embarrassing me and building up his self esteem upon the laughter he would doubtlessly receive from the rest of the students. Instead, and much to my surprise, he simply cast me a bemused glance, sighed dejectedly, as if he were weary of my very presence, and went back to marking the first year essays. "Detention. This evening. 8 o'clock." He said it as an afterthought. As if he really could care less whether or not I showed up. Which made me wonder - should I show up? Under normal circumstances I would have conveniently forgotten about it, earning myself a weeks worth of detention and successfully receiving Snape's wrath once again. He knew this just as well as I did. But this odd behavior of his - it perplexed me. I decided I would show up just to throw him off.  
  
I spent the rest of my double potions block copying lines from the text and wondering if I should stop on my way out to retrieve my journal or just leave it where it was, keeping up the ruse that I had no idea what he had been talking about. I decided, in the end, to just leave it. He had probably forgotten about it, I reasoned, and I could simply pick it up when I came back for my detention this evening.  
  
Eventually Snape dismissed us, giving me not so much as a second glance as I walked out the door - alone as usual. This somewhat saddened me and I couldn't quite place why. Did I actually expect him to give a rat's ass about me? I mean, just because I found him to be the most beautiful creature upon the face of the earth, I certainly wasn't entitled to his concern. Was I? This made me feel confounded, and so I snuck off to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to indulge in one of my many vices - a quick smoke before Care of Magical Creatures. 


	2. Two

Two  
  
The rest of my day had followed protocol. More or less. I went to class. I went to lunch. I went to dinner. And then I went to my room and studied. And then I yawned because I realized what an exciting life I lead. As I sat on my bed reading, 8 o' clock was fast approaching. I decided that it would be advantageous to sneak out for one more cigarette before heading down to the old dragon's lair, as he would most likely be keeping me until after hours, which meant he would have to escort me back to my dormitory. Silly school rules. I pulled on my cloak and ran a brush through my waist - length blonde hair. I put on a pair of flat black slippers which showed off the tattoo of a crescent moon on the top of my left foot, and made my ever solitary way down to the entrance hall, across the grounds, and this time, for a change of scenery, out behind Hagrid's hut. I spent a good long time smoking and staring up at the stars, not really thinking about anything. When I heard my watch, which I had set for 8 o' clock go off, I cursed myself. I was going to be late.  
  
I tossed my cigarette butt out into the grass, stood, and jogged quickly back up to the castle. Once inside I made a quick left in the entrance hall and wound my way down into the gut of Hogwarts. Or perhaps I should say the bowels. Either way, I soon found myself standing outside the potions classroom. The door was shut, and locked, and I had received no answer when I had rapped. Perhaps Snape had forgotten about assigning me a detention. I certainly wouldn't have put it past him, given his odd behavior lately. I had just turned and was going to head back to my dormitory when I heard his silky voice from behind me, and saw his shadow fall upon the corridor where I stood.  
  
"Leaving so soon," he asked snidely. I turned to face him. I had planned to shoot back some ignorant response designed to frustrate and enrage him, but felt my gut sink to my toes at what I saw clutched in his bony hands. My journal. I looked up into his face, which bore a sickening smirk. He had read it. That bastard. I tried to keep up my innocence ruse, but it was not working as well as I'd hoped given the fact that my face was slowly turning a very lovely shade of purple from the neck up.  
  
"I would have thought, Miss McMathewes," he went on in that omnipotent voice which made me quiver with desire and rage at the same time, "that you would be looking forward to spending a bit of time alone with me. You clearly stated as much on page twenty four, I believe." I choked on the gum I had been chewing and coughed. I should have picked that book up earlier. Oh well. Not much I could do about it now. Except match his caustic comments and hope to keep up with him for the remainder of what promised to be a very long and uncomfortable evening.  
  
He handed my book back to me, to my surprise, and proceeded to unlock the door. He then held it open for me as I slunk inside. Unfortunately, he was beginning to act more like the Snape I had come to covet. Once inside I was surprised to see an array of potions ingredients sprawled upon two separate workstations and two cauldrons sitting atop small fires, ready to brew.  
  
"I thought I'd be doing some menial task with which you couldn't be bothered," I asked as I looked up into those obsidian eyes. Damn them for being so gorgeous. He furrowed his brow as if wondering the best retort before answering me.  
  
"That would be far too easy," he answered with malice in his voice. "After all, you need to be punished, not allowed to get off with simple housework. That is why I have decided that you may brew my monthly store of Dreamless Sleep potion, whilst I tackle some other, more advanced tasks." He walked over to the cauldron closest to the wall then, and waved me over to join him.  
  
"You'll find that all the necessary ingredients have already been laid out. This should prevent you snooping around in the store cupboard. I want you to triple the recipe I gave you in class, as I need to supply both myself and Madame Pomfrey." I looked up at him, realization melting across my features. I had caught him. He had just let a secret slip. And he knew it. So Severus Snape required a batch and a half of Dreamless Sleep each month? I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. That was probably why he always looked so overly tired. Why he carried such signs of stress upon that ethereal face of his. Whatever so aggravated him during the day carried over into his dreams. He must have done something really terrible, I mused.  
  
I raised my eyebrow quizzically but he had merely returned my look with a frown and walked over to his own cauldron. I decided I'd best not grill him. We were almost even. He had read my diary and I had found out one very personal piece of information about him. I turned to my ingredients and began to powder my root of Asphodel. This was actually a rather complimentary task. He was placing his faith in me to brew a potion fit for his own consumption. I wondered how many of his students he would give this caliber of a task to. I hoped I was one of an elite few.  
  
For those of you who are unfamiliar with potions, Dreamless Sleep is a very time consuming potion to brew. Once I had rendered all my ingredients, which had only taken about forty five minutes, I was faced with the daunting task of waiting for the potion to brew, stirring counterclockwise three times every hour to five hours. The idea is to keep it from coagulating while it thickens. It was now almost nine o'clock, which meant that I was going to be here until - two o' clock in the morning? That bastard. I cast him a sneer from across the classroom but he was too busy shredding nightshade to notice. Nightshade? Just what the hell was that crazy old bat concocting over there, poison?  
  
I turned my attention back to my cauldron. Five hours was going to be a very long time to sit in silence watching my cauldron bubble and hiss. There had to be something for me to entertain myself with. Slimy pickled things in jars? No. First year exams, bottle of ink, and quill? Could be fun, but may land me back here for a weeks worth of Dreamless Sleep. Ew! Was that a stuffed Labrador in the corner or were the fumes from Snape's cauldron causing hallucinations? I shook my head and resumed my search.  
  
There! On the far side of the room behind his desk. I spied a bookshelf. I wasn't sure if there would be anything of interest in it but it was certainly better than my other options. I hopped down from my stool and strode past Snape, my nose in the air, straight to the bookshelf. I didn't know if he was watching me or not because I didn't have the nerve to check, but he let me get nearly two feet away from it before stopping me. This surprised me. I didn't think any student had ever made it onto the dais upon which his personal desk sat.  
  
"Miss McMathewes," he hissed. I stopped but did not turn to face him. "Just where do you think you're headed?"  
  
I turned then, and faced his icy stare. "I was going to get a book to read while I waited for my potion to finish brewing," I told him matter of factly. As if he had just asked the stupidest question I had ever heard.  
  
"And who told you that you could invite yourself to one of my books?"  
  
I rolled my eyes then and crossed my arms, taking on a very irritated stance. "Professor Snape," I whined. "That potion is going to be brewing for five hours. If I don't have something to do with myself I'm going to be forced to find something to talk to you about. And I'm sure that that's not what either of us wants. Now I realize that you don't work, play, or share well with others but I think it would be to our mutual benefit if you let me read one of your precious tomes over there. If not for my sanity then for yours."  
  
He sighed, going back to his work. "Very well then," he gave in. Gave in? What was up? This was really turning out to be no fun at all. But I decided that very few students ever got their way with him and so I turned back to the bookshelf and looked at my options. To my surprise my options were quite pleasant and I found it hard to choose. In the end I chose an anthology of Poe's works, surprised that the old dragon would ever give in to having a collection of Yankee muggle literature in his presence. Taking the book I made my way back over to my stool, plopped myself upon it, and began to read.  
  
One hour and thirty five pages later I started at the sensation of breath in my ear.  
  
"I believe you'll want to stir that potion of yours before you ruin it and have to start from scratch." I dropped the book as I jumped and heard it smack shut as it fell upon the cobbled floor. I wished it was me.  
  
"That was rude." I had turned to face him and felt my heart flutter to see that his face - his lips - were mere inches from mine. Was this some sort of practical joke that he was playing with me, knowing that I had a crush on him? What a prick. I narrowed my eyes at him and did my best to ignore his stunning sneer as I hopped down from the stool and picked up my ladle. I stirred the potion as the directions had instructed and then turned to retrieve my book. His book. Whatever.  
  
He had beaten me to it. He was holding it open atop one of his perfect hands and was skimming the page with the middle finger of the opposite hand. Bastard. Why did I like that word so much? I strode over to him and pulled the book down so he would be forced to look at me.  
  
"I was reading that," I informed him as I took it from his hands. As I did my fingers brushed against his momentarily and I don't think I hid the fact that my breath hitched as I did very well. He smirked again. Why must he do that? He must know how absolutely irresistible he was when he did. He was teasing me, and he knew it. I pretended to take no heed of him as I resumed my perch upon the stool and began to read again.  
  
"I should have known you'd go for an American muggle author," he drawled in that crushed velvet voice of his. Then he removed the book from my hands, turned it right side up, and replaced it. Damn him! He was determined to torment me. He could be such a harpy sometimes! Fine, if this was what he wanted then this was what he would get. I slammed the book shut and threw it down upon the workstation.  
  
"Why," was my simple question. He looked confused, and so I repeated myself, more loudly this time. "Why?"  
  
"Why what, Miss McMathewes?" He looked almost bewildered.  
  
"Why do you insist on tormenting me? Why, after two years here, am I still the object of your insidious rage? Why?"  
  
He smiled. Smiled? I had known this nasty old bastard for two years now and this was, I was quite sure, the very first time I had ever seen him smile. He looked ten years younger. He really ought to do it more often.  
  
"Because you can take it," he answered as he turned and pretended to inspect my potion.  
  
"So that makes it okay?" I could feel my rage building. He was admitting to being horrible to me for two long years. And why? Because I could take it? Well bully for me. Let's all just line up and take a shit on Acacia's grave. She can take it!  
  
"It certainly makes it more fun," he answered darkly.  
  
"Oh. So you take pleasure in causing emotional damage to your students? A regular sadist, you are." I crossed my arms and sulked. I needed a cigarette.  
  
"I take pleasure in watching you exercise your wits," he corrected. "Most of my students," he went on, "will simply take my picking with a grain of salt and give me nothing in return. You, on the other hand - " he had somehow glided straight over to me and was standing directly in front of me without my even noticing, "you keep it up. You challenge me."  
  
I felt fingers - long, soft, surprisingly warm fingers - on my chin and he was pulling my face up so that our eyes were level. I felt transfixed. Was it the fumes in the air? I wondered again what he was brewing over there on the other side of the room, and whether or not it was affecting my behavior. I felt somehow in a stupor. I blinked. He smiled again. He was exquisite.  
  
For once, I had no idea what to say. Was this a joke? Was he waiting for me to confess my undying attraction to him so he could simply shoot me down as soon as I gave it? My eyes darted around the room, looking for some way to divert his attention, but I found none and he jerked my chin so that I would look back at him.  
  
What was the matter with me? This had been a fantasy that I had entertained for two years. Two long years! But somehow it was now uncomfortable and strange. And as badly as I wanted him to stretch out and kiss me with those ample lips of his, I was quite sure that if he did I would faint. I could feel my face going paler and paler as the minutes went on, him staring at me, me returning his gaze.  
  
And then, at our most perfect moment together, I lost my balance and fell backwards off of my stool. "Perfect," was my final thought before my head smacked with a sickening crack against the floor and everything went black. 


	3. Three

Three  
  
My consciousness kicked in before I woke up, and I felt before I saw the lovely soft bed upon which I was lying. I snuggled into it, attempting to bury myself as my memory came flying back to me.  
  
I had been in the potions classroom. Brewing Dreamless Sleep. Reading Poe. OH. MY. GOD. Snape had been about to give me a good snogging then and there I had gone and fallen off my stool like some sort of damn clown. I didn't know whether I should open my eyes and see who was around, or simply lie there and pretend to sleep until I could be sure I was alone. Eventually curiosity got the best of me.  
  
I opened one eye tentatively and saw nothing but the white curtains of the hospital wing that had been drawn around my bed. Phew. I opened the other eye, stretched my arms above my head, began to roll over onto my other side, and let a soft purr escape my lips. As soon as I had completed my roll, however, the purr had turned into a scream and I had drawn my feather duvet tight around myself. I was suddenly aware that I had been put into a very gauzy hospital gown and was feeling quite self conscious, because there, sitting in an armchair and wearing a huge smirk of victory, sat Severus Snape. Bastard.  
  
"What are you doing here," I asked with malice in my voice. His smirk widened. He had won. He had upstaged me. I was supremely pissed. I scowled down at my blanket with my arms crossed, waiting for his reply.  
  
"Poppy was sure you were in a coma, but I knew you'd come out of it," was his answer.  
  
"Unfortunately." What exactly did one say in this particular situation. My mind raced with possible conversation starters but none of them seemed fit for this type of occasion. Just what do you say after almost kissing your professor? Thankfully I was interrupted before I was forced to speak. Thankfully?  
  
Snape leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "I thought you'd be able to handle me. Obviously I was wrong." I felt myself shiver and my breath hitched again involuntarily. With that he stood and swept out of the partition, robes billowing perfectly behind him and the smell of sage and cinnamon lingering in the air. Damn it! This was going to make for one very uncomfortable double potions block tomorrow morning.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I was right. Potions had never been so uncomfortable before in my life. Usually I would have been doodling or writing in my journal, but I realized with a sinking in my stomach as I turned up in the dungeon classroom the next day that I had left it there the evening prior. I quickly glanced over to the workstation only to see that it had been collected by someone - I didn't want to think who - already.  
  
Mercifully, Snape seemed to have forgotten the entire incident. He began class as usual, putting notes on the board and assigning a new chapter in the text for us to outline. The rest of the class was spent outlining said text in silence. I didn't even glance up at him once. Of course, I wondered if he was watching me but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me give him any attention. I finished my chapter fifteen minutes before the end of class and so I shut my book, put down my quill, and laid my head upon my crossed arms. I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to take a quick cat nap and catch upon the sleep I had missed the night before.  
  
I must have fallen into a deeper sleep that I had expected because I awoke to the distinct sensation of a heavy hand upon my shoulder. I started and sat up with a jerk. "I swear I only suggested it. Myrna was the one who actually turned her yellow!" And on that note I woke up fully. I looked around to see who had been molesting my shoulder and felt my stomach sink to my toes - it seemed to live there these days - when I realized that it was Snape, and that the classroom was empty. Bastard.  
  
I scowled at him and began to gather up my things but he stopped me by placing one strong hand on both of mine from behind me. I could feel his chest rising and falling in comfortable breaths, while mine seemed to quicken to a breakneck speed. I did not turn to face him.  
  
The next thing I felt was that all too familiar sensation of breath in my ear and my spine tingling as he drawled silkily, "I think I've finally found a way to disconcert you."  
  
"Nonsense," I answered in my best controlled voice, which came out airy and shaking. Damn him for being so disconcerting. He lifted his free hand and drew my hair back behind my shoulder away from my face before placing one chaste kiss upon my cheek. I froze, save the trembling I had been doing in his presence since last night.  
  
"I long for him, as the dawn longs for the sun, as the desert longs for the rain. Just as the night craves the stars and with the intensity that the sun envies the moon, so do I yearn for him. Page thirty six." I was suddenly aware that I was not breathing.  
  
He stepped back then, and I quickly snapped into action. I finished shoving my things haphazardly into my bookbag and scraped my stool across the floor. As soon as my feet hit the ground I was veritably running from the room, my long hair and the hem of my robe trailing along behind me in my wake.  
  
Just as I reached the door and I thought I had made it to safety, he called out to me. "Miss McMathewes."  
  
I stopped dead in my tracks but did not face him, instead placing one hand on the door frame to steady myself.  
  
"The feeling is mutual." With that I turned and walked slowly out of the dungeons, my breath slowly returning to a normal rate with each inch I put between us. 


	4. Four

Four  
  
After my last uncomfortable incident with the potions master from hell I was determined never to step foot in that classroom again. And then I realized that potions was a requirement for graduation. Damn this English school system. Why had I come here in the first place?  
  
What an honor it had been. And such a wonderful opportunity to leave behind all the adversities I had suffered in America. Attending a top European school on full scholarship. This was my chance to get away from my parents, my "friends," and most importantly Michael, who had been the worst thing to happen to the world since the Plague.  
  
Michael. I had dated him for five years. When I had hit twelve years old he had began pursuing me. I wish I had never met him. But I gave in after a year and we had started that farce of a relationship. I hadn't even been attracted to him. But over the course of five years feelings can change. And unbeknownst to me as my feelings for him grew his for me decayed. The final two years had been miserable. He had been miserable and had been determined to bring me along for the ride. That saying, how you always hurt the one you love? It works both ways.  
  
And after five years he had told me that he didn't love me anymore. I had never made him happy and all those times he had promised to marry me and make me happy? Those had all been lies too. He was in love with a third year, and they were going to be happy, he told me. He had only stayed with me out of guilt, he told me. I wondered what had happened to us. Why had he pushed the issue so far just to break me in the end?  
  
Oh well. It didn't matter. I was here now. This was my life now. Although I have to admit that it's not going much better than things were at home. I thought I wanted Snape. I really did. But now that my feelings are reciprocated I'm anxious. I've experienced firsthand the horrors of a broken heart and getting close to another man, let alone one who is almost twice my age, could only lead to another helping of pain and disillusionment. Right? I mean, hadn't I already decided two years ago that all men were eventually going to hurt you? So why was it so hard to flee from all of Snape's advances?  
  
These were the questions with which I entered double potions block the next day. I hoped against hope that he hadn't read any more of my journal. I prayed that he would just give it back to me so I could go out by the lake and set it on fire. The feeling was mutual? What on earth had that meant? Did he really long for me the way I had longed for him? How could this be happening?  
  
I sloped into the potions classroom with a huge group of Ravenclaw girls, hoping that Snape wouldn't notice me. He did. It figures. I spent the class copying lines, as usual. When Snape announced that class was dismissed I quickly gathered my things and attempted to slide out of the classroom without incident. I should have known it wouldn't have been that easy.  
  
"Miss McMathewes, a word." I stopped halfway out the door, turned, and resumed my seat in the middle of the classroom. I did not make eye contact, no matter how desperately I wanted to. "In the front row, if you please." I sighed exasperatedly and picked my bag back up, trudged to the front of the room, threw myself onto a stool directly in front of his desk, and slammed my bag down upon the workstation. If he hadn't known I was in a foul mood before he would be sure to catch it now.  
  
He stared at me. I stared at him. Was this what he had called me here for? A staring contest? Well, I hadn't had one since my second year but if that's what he wanted I had won then and I would win now. Bastard.  
  
"Something in you has changed." No shit.  
  
"Can't put anything past you."  
  
He smirked. "Out with it."  
  
"I think not."  
  
"As your teacher it is my job to show concern for your mental and emotional well being. So spit it out and don't make me force a dose of Veritaserum down your throat."  
  
I scowled. He wasn't going to pressure me into anything. "You weren't acting much like my teacher yesterday."  
  
"It was what you wanted. You said so right in that infernal book of yours."  
  
"It was what I thought I wanted," I corrected him softly. I couldn't bring myself to raise my voice, despite the fact that the rage was rising in my throat. "And speaking of my journal when can I have it back? Haven't you devoted it all to memory yet?"  
  
"Who is Michael?"  
  
I fiddled nervously with my left arm through the sleeve of my robe. My scars were beginning to itch. Had I written about Michael in there? I couldn't remember. "I'm pleading the fifth."  
  
Snape looked confused. I remembered that he wasn't American, let alone an American muggle, and he would probably have no idea what the fifth amendment was, let alone the rest of the Bill of Rights.  
  
"What's that," he asked quizzically. It was a bit disconcerting, but he actually did seemed concerned. I tried desperately to remember what I had written about Michael in that journal of mine. I hoped I hadn't given too much away.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
"What happened to you back home?"  
  
Why these infernal deep questions? I know I hadn't written anything about my parents or my home life in that damned journal. What was he, some kind of damned psychic? Was he consorting with Trelawny on a nightly basis? Consulting the orb or whatever the hell she did with her spare time?  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." My breathing was becoming quick and staccato and my eyes began to dart around the room, looking everywhere but directly at him.  
  
I thought he'd continue to press me, but to my surprise and horror he seized my left arm and pulled the sleeve of my robe up to my elbow. I thought he'd gasp. Most people did. Instead his eyes simply narrowed and he drew my arm closer in order to get a better view of the messy pattern of scars that had been hacked into my arm. They really were ugly, even to me, and I had seen them for almost four years.  
  
I stared at the desk. He stared at me. Neither of us said anything for a while.  
  
"Who did this," he asked in a much softer voice than I had heard him use in quite some time.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," I answered flatly, no emotion to betray me. I continued to stare at the desk as if I could pour myself into it and avoid this confrontation altogether. He seized my right arm, then, and performed the same inspection. My right arm was the same.  
  
"Where else did he cut you," he asked. He was beginning to sound angry. As if he would chastise me for Michaels actions. "Your legs? Your back? Anywhere they wouldn't be visible unless your robes were off? Am I right?" His voice was rolling into a dangerous crescendo.  
  
"I suppose he hit you as well?" When he got no answer or any indication that I was hearing him at all he smacked his paw like palm upon the workstation.  
  
"Damn it, Acacia! Why didn't you ever tell anyone? Poppy noticed you know. She told me there was something horribly wrong but she wouldn't tell me what." He softened then as the first tear fell silently from my eye and splattered upon the tabletop. I didn't sob or wail, but simply sat there and allowed the tears to flow for the first time in four years. Four long years. I desperately needed a cigarette.  
  
I became suddenly aware that he was no longer holding my wrists in that death grip of his. I looked up and he was no longer at his desk. He was coming around the workstation with powerful strides, with purpose. I stayed where I was until he reached me, hoisted me to my feet, and wrapped me in his arms, covering me with his cloak.  
  
It felt so good to be held. No expectations. No selfishness. Nothing but concern in that hug. It was freedom. I leaned into his chest and felt myself give that telling shudder that comes just before the floodgates are opened. He placed one tender hand on my head and stroked my hair, trying to comfort me. Comfort me? This was the oddest behavior he had exhibited yet. I gathered a fistful of his robes in each of my hands and just let go. We stood there, him caressing my hair and me just bawling like a silly child, for Merlin knows how long. It was I who broke the embrace first. I straightened up and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. He loosened his grip on me but did not let me go. Instead he placed a hand on each of my arms and held me at arms link, studying me.  
  
I turned and picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, turned, and attempted to leave. No such luck. He pulled me back to face him, almost forcefully, and I looked into his eyes, so full of concern.  
  
I didn't know what to say. But he did. "We can fix this," he told me with certainty in his voice. "This can be fixed." 


	5. Five

Five  
  
Over the course of the next few days my life took some interesting twists and turns. Okay, interesting may be a bit of an understatement. More like bizarre. In any case. Snape, of course went straight to Dumbledore. I knew the big git wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut. Dumbledore, of course called me to his office and attempted to council me. No offense to him but the abuse ended a little over two years ago. No real need to reopen the wounds. At least that was my opinion. Snape, however, was of a different persuasion. He felt that it would be advantageous for me to externalize the whole ordeal. So I did. Many weeks and quite a few packs of cigarettes later I was feeling somewhat better. Somewhat.  
  
Snape had taken a much different tone with me, which was nice. While the whole battling thing seemed exotic at first, I was much more comfortable with his new approach, which was gentility and tenderness. I figured if nothing else it would make for great blackmail down the road.  
  
Of course in order to reveal my little secret to the headmaster, Snape also had to tell how he had read my journal. It was nice to see him catch a little hell for that. It was then returned to me. I thought a long time about what I wanted to do with it. In the end, while burning was my first instinct, I settled for tucking it away in the bottom of my drawer of knickers for the time being. Everything I had written had, after all, come from the heart, and I couldn't bring myself to just burn my heart in a fit of passion.  
  
Snape had related to the headmaster that he was doing some rather pressing research in his spare time, and could use a little extra help with his class preparation. Enter yours truly. Of course Snape didn't really need the help, but it did give us an excuse to spend a little extra time together. And before your mind runs away with you it was completely innocent. For the most part. At first. In any case I had become a bit of a regular occurrence in the dungeons most evenings. When I would have been lying in my room wasting my time alone I was now spending time with someone who, I was beginning to learn, was more than just a good looking, ill tempered old bastard.  
  
It was true that Snape had taken on some extra research. He was looking into the exact healing properties of phoenix tears. It was well known that the tears of the phoenix could heal any open wound, no matter how grievous. But whether or not it could have an effect on scars was another question, and one that had gone unanswered for many years.  
  
And so this particular evening found me walking down to the potions classroom after dinner carrying a napkin stuffed with bits and bobs from the table. My housemates had watched me with looks of disgust and confusion as I had packed myself a second dinner after eating my own. Severus had skipped dinner again and I didn't like to see him miss out on such a lovely feast. Plus I was concerned about him. But that was beside the point.  
  
I knocked lightly on the door and waited to hear him call to me to come in. I entered the classroom to find him in his usual spot, perched at his desk like a great black raven scratching notes from a huge tome on something or other. I walked up to the desk and set the napkin down upon it. Slowly, once he had finished his sentence, I reached out and took the book from under his nose, marked his place, and set it off to the side. I took his quill and parchment and laid them beside the book. Then I drew my wand, eighteen inches, yew, unicorn hair, swishy, and conjured a plate, a knife, and a fork. I tipped the food onto his plate and laid the napkin underneath as a placemat.  
  
"Eat," I instructed him. He had watched me go through my task with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. I knew it made him happy to have someone fuss over him, even if he would never admit it. When I had finished he picked up his fork and knife and began to pick at his dinner, tines down. I never understood that tradition.  
  
This evening I had brought him a selection of steamed carrots and broccoli, a breast of chicken, and a dinner roll. "I was going to bring you some stew but you can see the mess that would have made of the napkin," I joked. He smiled as he continued to eat. I headed over to a large tapestry that sat behind the desk, directly under one of the many sconces that adorned the walls, and slid it back to reveal a wine rack. After careful deliberation I decided that a nice Riesling would go well with the chicken. I brought the bottle over to the desk and conjured a nice crystal goblet. I opened the bottle and poured his goblet full. He took a long drink before he spoke next.  
  
"You need to stop all this foolish fretting over me," he admonished as he took another bite of his chicken. I smiled knowingly.  
  
"Whatever you say," I answered as I took my seat at the workstation in front of him. To entertain myself I picked up the book he had been reading. It's title was "Curing the Incurable; A Modern Magical Medical Grimoire". I opened it to the page he had been reading and skimmed.  
  
"One of the best known effects of the phoenix tear is its ability to heal wounds. Even if the victim is an inch from death the tear of the phoenix will restore his stamina to a level above that which it had been before receiving the injury. While not much is known about how it actually effects the tissue of the skin and muscle, it is known that the offended areas seem to knit themselves back together instantaneously. Some limited work has been done with phoenix tears in the area of scarring. Those patients who received a therapy of three parts phoenix tear to two parts oil of aloe experienced a 65% decrease in the appearance of the scars, however no healing was done past the 65th percent mark.. One leading theory in the study of healing with phoenix tears is that if the wounds are reopened and then given an undiluted dose of phoenix tear, they will heal just as they had prior to healing and scarring the first time, and the scar will be wiped away. This theory has not been tested."  
  
Snape had highlighted the last two sentences on the page. I looked up at him, questions dancing in my eyes. He nodded his head as he finished his final bite of chicken and took another swig from his goblet.  
  
"I'm sure you understand the implications," he questioned me with something near excitement in his voice.  
  
I nodded my head, but remained silent. I feared that if I expressed any sort of hope that I might someday be free of these horrid scars I would jinx myself.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"I think it sounds too good to be true." I turned my attention back to the book in an attempt to avoid his gaze.  
  
"Acacia."  
  
I looked up.  
  
"I think we need to look further into this theory of reopening the wounds. I really think this could be the answer."  
  
I said nothing for a moment, but eventually the little girl in me regained her voice and I asked, "Does it hurt?" I sounded almost meek. I hated it.  
  
He put down his knife and fork and reached out to take my delicate hand in his. "I won't lie to you. We would have to open the wounds in the same way that they were created. And phoenix tears have been known to cause a bit of an aversive feeling in some patients, while others feel numbed, and still others feel as if the area being healed has been touched by Merlin himself." I looked down again, so that he couldn't see the resignation in my eyes. "But there are ways to skirt the pain," he went on, and I looked back up into those kind eyes of his. I seemed to question him with my gaze.  
  
"I could brew a very potent analgesic, of the narcotic variety," he went on. "It would contain a very high dosage of Opium, and would kill any pain that you may feel during the procedure. However, when its effects have worn off you may go through a good deal of pain. I shall leave it up to you."  
  
I considered this for a good long time before I looked back into his eyes, this time with certainty in my gaze. "Lets do it," I answered. 


	6. Six

Six  
  
I walked into the hospital wing later that week to find an assemblage of faculty waiting for me. Apparently Snape had clued Dumbledore in on our plan and he had clued everyone else in. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout had all turned up to present me with a little token and wishes of good luck. Professor Dumbledore had brought Fawkes with him. Though we had ordered a supply of phoenix tears from an apothecary in London he still thought Fawkes might be able to comfort me a bit. After everything had been prepared I was led to the back of the wing, with Madam Pomfrey in the lead and Snape bringing up the rear.  
  
An entire corner of the wing had been sectioned off with those familiar white curtains. I stepped inside to see that a bed had been set up. There were two chairs on each side of it, and the entire arrangement was very formal. It looked like the romantic version of a muggle operating room. To the left of one of the chairs stood a tall table which had been covered in white linen and upon which were laying some sort of instruments. I wandered over to the table, Snape and Pomfrey exchanging worried glances. My breath caught in my throat.  
  
There, cold and metal upon the linen, lay a collection of about five knives with different sized blades. Each of them had a mother of pearl handle and they looked like surgical tools from the turn of the century. I reached out and ran my finger down the longest of the five. I closed my eyes and felt my breath hitch as a hand encompassed mine. I exhaled deeply before looking down to see Snape's hand upon my own.  
  
I looked up into his eyes, which were full of warmth and sincerity. I wasn't used to seeing him in this honest state. It was unnerving. He picked up my hand and led me over to the bed. I sat down and looked all around the sectioned off area. Poppy seemed to have left. When he had had enough of my avoiding him, Snape took my chin between his index finger and thumb, just as he had that first evening we had spent together, and forced me to look into his eyes.  
  
"You'll be fine," he told me with certainty. "I won't let anything happen to you."  
  
"Right." I felt sick. I had been excited about this until just now. I really had. The prospect of getting rid of these infernal scars - these memories of my all too horrific past - had been very appealing. But the sight of the knives and the memory of how it used to feel when - Oh God. I was crying.  
  
He picked me up and held me in that tight embrace of his, and try as I might to fight it I found myself giving in to the warm smell of cinnamon and sage that seemed to surround us. I was still crying silent tears when he leaned down and whispered in my ear.  
  
"Trust me." Trust him? Trust Severus Snape? That seemed somehow the last thing I should do. And yet I did. I couldn't help but trust him. Maybe my classmates were right. Maybe they could see an evil in him that I was blind to. But in my opinion Snape was the only person in the castle I would have wanted next to me at that moment, and so I held on tighter. Eventually Poppy came back and I broke the embrace.  
  
"You'll want to get undressed alone, I assume," she questioned me while shooting a look to Severus. Alone? Yes. Alone would be quite nice thank you kindly. I nodded my head. She turned and beckoned Severus out of the partition. Before he left he slipped a small vial filled with purplish blue liquid.  
  
"Drink this all down just before you cover up. Don't drink it before you're lying down or it will knock you out and you'll hit the floor. Call when you're ready for us." I nodded silently. My heart was racing. I was beginning to sweat. Those knives in the corner were looking more and more ominous as the time drew nearer.  
  
Severus left and I could hear Poppy chattering nervously at him from outside the curtains. In the light of the candles I wondered how well they would be able to see what they were doing. I wished there were a fluorescent light or two in here. I crossed the room and flipped the linen up over the knives. I really didn't feel like seeing them. Then I returned to the bed and lifted my robe up over my head. I folded it neatly and laid it on the chair beside the bed. I then reached around and undid the bodice that was clasped together at my back, removed it, and laid it atop the robe. Next was my skirt and my knickers, which joined my robe and bodice. I couldn't resist the urge to look down at my body.  
  
Angry pinkish white slashes crisscrossed my belly, legs, arms, and chest in aimless patterns. I looked like I had gotten into a fight with a weed eater and lost. I snorted at the thought.  
  
"Anything the matter dear," I heard Poppy call in.  
  
"No," I answered. Even if I felt like relaying the thought of myself brawling with a weed eater, I was pretty sure that neither of them would understand what one was or why that would be funny anyway.  
  
I reached into the pocket of my robe and pulled out the vial. I held it up to the candle light, the better to inspect it. It was thick, its contents swirling inside the glass tube. I pulled the tiny cork off the top and sniffed it. It smelled bitter. Almost like elderberries. I wrinkled my nose and hoped it tasted better than it smelled. I lay back in the bed, which was immensely comfortable, and covered myself with the feather duvet. Then, without hesitation, I tilted my head back and opened my throat, letting the entire dose tumble down.  
  
I blinked. I felt nothing. I blinked again and looked around. Almost a minute went by and I wondered if anything was going to happen. And then it hit me. It was as if a wave had crashed into my head, starting at the front and working its way back. With each wave of the narcotic I could feel my sense of reality slipping farther and father away. I could still see everything clearly. I could still hear Poppy and Snape chatting behind the curtains. Could still see the lumps under the white linen that were the knives. Could still see the flame dancing in the thin castle air. And yet, everything was somehow changed. Somehow less real.  
  
"All set, then," I heard Snape's voice from my right. I turned my head lazily and rolled my eyes to face him. I nodded. He smiled. I smiled. He stepped silently between the curtains and advanced on me. I held out my arm, my fingers splayed, to him. He took the vial that was rolling around in my palm and inspected it.  
  
"Drank it all down did you?"  
  
I nodded, a placid smile plastered across my face.  
  
"You should be feeling comfortable then."  
  
"I am," I answered. My voice sounded strained, as if it took all my energy to muster it up. I would have been worried, but I was too happy to worry at the moment. "What's in this?"  
  
"Opium. Cannabis. A few inactive ingredients to thicken it and make it coat the stomach." He reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. I closed them and savored the way my skin tingled as he ran his fingers against it. I sighed. This was the most relaxed I had been at Snape's touch since we had started this whole thing. And then Poppy had come bustling in and broken it up. Damn you Poppy.  
  
"Well, I trust you're ready then," she asked breathlessly as she began to prepare her things. I looked at Snape. He nodded slightly. I nodded too. This was it, I thought to myself. Too late to go back now. Poppy turned to the table full of knives and uncovered them. I felt my stomach give a lurch and squeezed Snape's hand with fervor. He laid his hand on my forehead and stroked my hair back from my face. I swallowed thickly.  
  
Poppy selected a knife, one of the medium sized ones, and came back over and resumed her seat next to me. She had dragged over a table that contained a large bottle of clear liquid and an eye dropper. I supposed that was the phoenix tears.  
  
When she had everything all set up she turned to me, sympathy in her eyes, and said, "now, dear, this is going to sting a bit. You just hold on to Severus and let us know if it gets to be too much. If you feel that you can, just let yourself drift off and when you wake up this will all be over with." I nodded. Go to sleep while you're hacking away at my scar tissue? I don't think so. I wished she'd just get on with it.  
  
When she picked up the knife I turned my head. She drew my arm out from the covers and I made a fist as tight as I could. I closed my eyes tight and with my other hand squeezed Severus' hand harder than I ever had before. I think I heard him gasp in pain but I couldn't be sure because the analgesic was making everything swim together.  
  
I felt the cold tip of the knife on my skin. I sucked my breath in and held it, pursing my lips together tight. When I felt it slide into my skin and slice my arm open all over again I fought back the urge to scream with everything I had. I shook with pain and frustration and wondered why this potion wasn't numbing my nerve endings yet.  
  
Poppy worked quickly, just as Michael had. Before I knew it my entire arm had been reopened and I could feel blood running down my arm in little rivulets and streams, pooling at the tips of my fingers, and dripping from there onto the floor. Then, just when I thought I could take no more I heard her place the knife back on the table and pick up the bottle.  
  
I opened one eye tentatively to see Snape looking firmly down into my face. "You're doing beautifully," he told me in a whisper and I heard Poppy mutter an assent from behind me. Then I felt the first drop of tears on the wounds. It was awful. Anyone who ever tells you that phoenix tears are refreshing is a big fat liar. The cuts began to itch and sting as if they had been filled with salt. I whimpered.  
  
"Does it hurt," Poppy asked as she stopped applying the tears, her hand frozen over my arm in midair.  
  
I nodded. I found my voice. "It burns. And it stings. And itches horribly," I managed to spit out.  
  
"Can you stand it," Snape asked anxiously. I nodded again and pressed my lips together to keep from crying out. And that was how I spend the next four hours of my life. I was in pain. I was uncomfortable. I itched like I had poison ivy over my whole body and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And the strangest part is that the whole time all I could think about was how good it felt to have Severus Snape hold me. I am a total dork. 


	7. Seven

Seven  
  
I spent that evening in the hospital wing. I spent the next day in the hospital wing. And then, for a change of pace, I spent the rest of the week there. Just in case I wasn't bored off my ass by the second day. Lets just say I started playing a lot of solitaire.  
  
The good news was that my scars were gone. The bad news was that I felt somehow even more reclusive than I had at the beginning of the whole affair. The whole school knew that something was up, and in retaliation for not being able to figure out what it was they had taken to spreading rumors like wildfire.  
  
I had run away. I had tried to kill myself. My personal favorite came from that infernal Parvati Patil. She told everyone in Gryffindor that Snape had gotten me pregnant. It was a bit of a laugh to hear him relate the story of how he had given her a week's worth of detention for spreading lies and deducted seventy points from her house. Bitch. I only wished I could have been there to lay the smack down myself.  
  
Snape came to visit me every evening. I could set my watch by him. Every night at exactly ten the clock would strike and on the final note Snape would come billowing through the doors to the hospital wing, carrying a book of my choosing. This evening he was particularly ruffled because I had sent him all the way to muggle London to find me a copy of Fight Club a week before. He had come back in quite a sour mood complaining that they had given him strange looks and told him they'd have to order it in. When they had asked for his phone number he had been double confounded and told them just to hold it, that he would be in one week from then.  
  
Which brought us to this evening. He sidled up to the side of my bed and I eagerly reached out to take the book from his hands. I was like a child with a new Barney doll. Or whatever children were playing with these days. I was a bit out of the loop in that department. I flipped through the pages with zeal. I couldn't believe it. I had forgotten my own copy back at home when I had come last September and was missing it horribly. I looked up to see Snape sneering down at the book as if it smelled bad. I frowned.  
  
"What's the matter with you now?" I wrinkled my nose at his dour expression.  
  
"I read a bit of that rubbish on the way back here," he chided me. I laughed.  
  
"Good for you."  
  
"It was total garbage. Couldn't understand a stitch of it!"  
  
"That's because you're not seasoned in the ways of contemporary American muggle literature," I snarled back.  
  
"And right glad of it, I think," he retorted. I growled at him and thrust the book back into his protesting hands. "Read to me," I demanded.  
  
"You really are helpless for a girl your age," he answered as he took the book and opened it to the first page.  
  
"You do want me to start at the beginning don't you? Not that it would matter with this piece of trash but."  
  
"Just be quiet and read."  
  
"Be quiet and read. Have you ever heard of an oxy moron you silly girl?"  
  
"Kind of like human potions master," I asked, an edge to my voice. He snarled. I laughed. And with that he began to read.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Finally, a week later, I was released from the hospital wing much to the dismay of my housemates. The four evil hags with whom I was unfortunate enough to have to share a bedroom had commandeered my bed, my chest of drawers and my desk and filled it with their own things. I walked in to find all three of their longhaired, shedding, white cats upon my black silk bedspread. I wanted to tear my hair out.  
  
"Well, look who's back," sneered Anastacia.  
  
"Did you get that abortion we've been hearing all about? So is it true that the slimy old git raped you down in those dungeons?"  
  
I looked from the girls to the cats and back again. Then I threw my bag down upon the bed and laughed as the three beasts that had been sleeping there had been forced to scatter or be crushed. This was met with indignant glares from my housemates.  
  
"You can't rape the willing, girls," I answered coyly. Each of them exchanged wrinkled nosed, disgusted faces and gathered up their things.  
  
"We're going to the common room," the snapped as they made their way out and slammed the door behind them.  
  
"Thank god," I thought. And on that note I decided I'd really like to have a long, hot shower. I gathered my things, undressed, put on my shower robe, and stepped into our loo that was just off the right side of our room.  
  
Forty-five minutes later I emerged from what had become a steam room to find my quarter of the bedroom in complete and utter disarray. My bed had been stripped, my clothes were missing, and my books and other personal belongings were nowhere to be found. I put my hands on my hips and advanced on my bed to find a small piece of parchment lying there.  
  
"Dear Outcast," it had read. At least they had put some thought into it. "We have decided that you are not fit to dwell among normal human beings. You'll find that all your things have been relocated. Since you like Snape so much you can just go and sleep with him. You did, after all, admit that you were willing. Pleasant dreams." It wasn't signed.  
  
"Smart," I said to myself as I picked up my chin and prepared myself for the march of shame out through the common room with sopping wet hair and wearing my bathrobe. I was leaving sodden footprints on the stone floor as I walked, and the group that had assembled in the common room must have heard my feet smacking against the floor because they had waited until I had reached the common room before bursting into a fat fit of laughter. Bastards.  
  
I spared none of them so much as a glance as I walked proudly, as if nothing were amiss, out the portrait hole and down the hall. Somehow I was pretty sure where I could find my belongings. 


	8. Eight

Eight  
  
I was almost to the stairs leading down to the entrance hall when I heard that familiar silky hiss from behind me. I stopped but didn't turn around. I had been hoping I could just go down to the dungeons (where I was sure my things had been dumped), collect everything, and go up to Dumbledore's office to beg for a new housing assignment. I really didn't want Snape to see me in my bathrobe with my hair hanging flat against my head and shivering against the cold of the castle. Oh well.  
  
"Miss McMathewes." Why did he still call me that? I could feel everything that had been on my mind boiling over inside me and I could tell that this encounter was going to send me over the edge. Not that it was his fault. He was the only thing that didn't irritate me in my entire life. Yes, he tended to get under the skin with his snide remarks and his cutting attitude, but he mixed all that with this underlying sweetness that I couldn't help but respond to. But tonight was too much.  
  
I had been thinking hard about Michael and my past and how I could avoid going home this summer. I was thinking about my housemates and how I'd just as soon hang them than put up with them one more minute. I was thinking about everything that had happened between Snape and I and where it all was going. I had no idea what I was going to do once I graduated. Everything, every single god damned thing in my life was upside down and inside out and I had no idea how to right it all and I was angry.  
  
"Just where do you think you're going in that - revealing robe of yours?" He was right behind me now. He was drawling his words out straight into my ear and I enjoyed the sensation in spite of myself. My robe was revealing, but I hadn't realized that until just now. It was white silk and probably almost transparent in this infernal candlelight.  
  
I stepped forward a few paces, just enough to put some distance between us, and turned to face him. "My roommates kicked me out. They've taken my things and put them in the dungeons, I'm guessing. I'm headed down there to find and collect them, and then I'm going up to Dumbledore's office to either be placed in another house or start a damn house of my own." With that I turned and began walking down the stairs and into the entrance hall, and from there into the corridor that led to the dungeons.  
  
For one fleeting second I thought he was going to leave me alone, and I didn't look behind me to check his progress. Needless to say it took my breath away when he sidled up beside me and headed me off in the corridor. I stopped and gave him a determined look and tried to walk around his right side. He stepped to the right and cut me off. Rolling my eyes heavenward and exhaling exasperatedly I stepped to the left and tried again. Again, he cut me off.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me," I veritably screamed at him as I crossed my arms and stamped my foot like a stubborn child. Where had that come from? It looked as though he was wondering the same thing because his eyes widened and for a second I thought he may let me pass out of pure doubt about my mental stability. But he regained himself, the damn prick and crossed his arms just as I had, standing staunchly in the middle of the corridor.  
  
"Either you tell me what's going on in that head of yours or so help me Merlin you'll never get down this corridor." His voice was soft and silky as it ever was, but it was also firm and demanding. Like my father when he was giving me my final chance to straighten up or be punished.  
  
I uncrossed my arms and my body seemed to go limp. "I'm exhausted," I told him. He didn't say anything. Apparently that wasn't enough because he showed no signs of moving. "I am physically and emotionally exhausted and I'm frustrated and I have too much on my mind. And right now all I want is to get my things, find a bed, and stay there for the rest of the weekend." My voice was becoming whinier and whinier as I went and finally I just tilted my head all the way back and groaned the groan of a woman on the edge.  
  
He never said anything. He just put one arm around both of my shoulders and walked me down the corridor to the potions classroom. I was too tired to do anything except allow myself to be led. I didn't look at him but I could tell his demeanor had softened, now he'd gotten what he wanted. Sure enough, there in the middle of the hallway, were all my things. My sheets, my comforter, my trunk, a huge pile of my robes, my books, and on the top of the pile all my knickers. Those total bastards. They had put my black thongs on the top of the pile for the whole world to see. I was going to kill them all.  
  
My face went ten shades of red but I just marched forward and threw everything that would fit into the trunk, starting with the knicker pile. Then I stood up and whipped my wand out from the sleeve of my robe. I performed a simple "wingardium leviosa" on everything and began to march back up the corridor, fully intending to head up to Dumbledore's office, wake him up, and not let him go back to bed until I was in another house.  
  
Of course my plans were foiled once again as Snape performed the old cutting me off trick again.  
  
"Back that way," he instructed, pointing behind me. Too tired to argue I just sighed and redirected myself and my things. I walked down the hallway following his directions from behind me as I went.  
  
"Turn to the right. Take that left." And on and on until I finally heard him tell me to stop. I did, and found that I was standing in front of a great mahogany door. He stepped forward and muttered some charm to it, tapped his wand twice above it, and I heard a series of clicks, metal scraping against metal, and then he hoisted the door open and held it for me while I led my things into the room. 


	9. Nine

Nine  
  
At first I didn't think it was anything to get too excited about. The entire room was dark and only the embers from the fireplace cast a slight glow around us. Otherwise the entire place was black as pitch. I released my things from their charm and heard them drop heavily onto the carpets behind me. Snape closed the door and came into the room. He swept past me and lit a few candles. Then he lit a few more. What I saw when the place was bathed in light took my breath away.  
  
I was standing in a huge circle of a room, three times the size of our bedroom back in Ravenclaw house. Under my feet lay a beautiful oriental rug that stretched right to the edge of the floor and met the bottom of the wall. It was circular as well and looked as though it had been woven for this room specifically. It was a deep green color with black and silver flowers, birds, and trees adorning it. To my right was the fireplace, where Snape stood rebuilding the fire in the grate. In front of the fire were a large green sofa and two overstuffed armchairs. The armchairs at on either side of the sofa and were separated from the sofa by an end table on each side. The tables were made of the same mahogany as the door and were buffed and shined so finely that I could see a reflection of the room in them as if they were mirrors.  
  
The walls were all stone, and dark, and hung with portraits of landscapes, scenery, and one or two people who I was sure must be relatives. An old wizard with long black hair and ice green eyes whispered to his female companion in one picture, and she giggled coolly while watching my every move. Blown glass ornaments adorned the mantle, and an oriental style tapestry hung above it. To my left stood a strong mahogany four poster. It must have been king sized because it looked so big I thought I might get lost if I were to crawl into it. It was spread with a green feather duvet and each of the four posts was carved with the most beautiful flowers and vines I had ever seen. I thought it may have been an illusion but the leaves that were carved in them seemed to quiver in an unseen breeze and the birds atop each of the four posts seemed as though they turned to look at me.  
  
There were two doorways directly in front of me, and though they were open I could not see what lay beyond them because no light was lit inside either of the rooms. Severus finished with the fire and was able to sneak up on me because I was so busy looking at everything. I had never seen a ceiling so high in all my life, and while I had my head thrown back to take in the volume of the room I was startled to feel a soft kiss being placed upon my cheek. I jumped and backtracked a few paces. He had caught me off guard. He hadn't tried to kiss me since that night I fell off my stool in detention and it felt uncomfortable and natural all at once. Half of me wanted to run over to him and snog him until he couldn't stand it any more, but the other half of me, the half of me that still harbored memories of the pain and ache that had been inflicted on me at the hands of other men, retreated. He looked hurt for almost a second, but quickly composed himself and pretended that it didn't matter one way or the other. I didn't know exactly what to say so I just said nothing and continued to drink it all in.  
  
"Are you hungry," I heard him call a few moments later from inside the doorway on the left. I turned my attention there and called out that I wasn't. "Thirsty?"  
  
Gods I was thirsty. I hadn't realized it until now but my throat was dry as a desert. "Actually, I think something to drink would do me well just now." I heard glasses clinking and a bottle being opened. I could hear something being poured and eventually he reemerged with two tall glasses of wine. Wine? Maybe it was juice.  
  
He handed me my glass and I sniffed it tentatively. No, it was wine alright. It was a light red wine and smelled a little on the fruity side. Was that strawberry that my nose detected? I looked over to Snape and he smiled at me. I must have looked rather naïve.  
  
"Do you not drink alcohol," he asked me somewhat quietly.  
  
I thought for a moment about how best to answer that question without admitting that I'd never drunk a drop of alcohol before in my life. "It's just that I -"  
  
"I'm not going to get you drunk and compromise your morals," he cut me off. Well, in that case. I nodded and took a cautious sip. It took everything I had not to pucker my face up at the bitterness of it. However there was a slight sweetness to it that I supposed I would be able to detect more and more as I acquired my taste for the stuff. I crossed the room with my glass and plopped myself down upon the sofa, which was warm from the fire that was now roaring before it. I drew my legs up to my chest and wrapped one arm around them. I laid my chin upon my knee and watched the fire consume itself within the grate.  
  
My hair was beginning to dry and I was beginning to lose the gooseflesh I had suffered from earlier. I let out a yawn and took another, longer sip, allowing the liquid to burn its way down my throat. It was a sensation that was both good and bad at the same time.  
  
Before long Snape set his glass down upon the table beside me and I heard him slide his cloak off. He laid it across the back of the sofa behind me and then walked around between the fire and myself. I shivered in his shadow and wished he'd move, but I wasn't about to return his generosity by being rude and telling him to get out of my light.  
  
I looked up at him as I took another sip and felt as though I was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time. He looked the same as he always had, physically, but there was something in him now. He was showing me a side of himself that I was quite sure very few people and no students had ever seen before. He was looking down at me with his arms crossed and a tight expression on his face. Suddenly I longed to see him smile as he had that first night. He was so beautiful when he smiled.  
  
We stayed that way for a decent amount of time, him staring at me and me reflecting his gaze back to him. Then he sighed and took a seat beside me. I handed him his glass from the table to my left and he took it, his fingers brushing mine lightly as he did. My breath skipped and I think he realized it because he looked hard at me before taking a long sip of his drink. I curled myself up and wrapped my arm around my legs even tighter. And that's when I felt it. A heavy arm was laid around my shoulders and I was falling into him, leaning against the crook of his arm. It felt so natural to lay like that, the side of my head resting on his slightly rising and falling chest. There was that familiar smell of sage and cinnamon wafting around us like magic. Like a charm. I breathed in heavily and finished off what was left in my glass.  
  
I was quite sure I hadn't been this relaxed in quite some time. Eventually he finished off his glass as well and then placed both of our vessels on the table to his right. He wrapped his arm tighter around my shoulders and I leaned in closer, burying my face in his chest. I wanted to fall asleep just like this. He took my arm in his free hand and inspected it.  
  
"The scarring healed nicely, didn't it," he asked.  
  
I nodded my head and muttered a stifled "uh huh," which came out more like a moan against the thick fabric of his tunic.  
  
"And yet I'm of the impression that the emotional scars re still quite intact." He eased the question out, trying not to scare me back into myself.  
  
I thought hard for a moment about whether or not I really wanted to get into this with him, or with anyone for that matter. I hadn't dealt with these issues, really dealt with them in so long. Of course Dumbledore had done his little counseling thing, and I had answered his questions honestly. But I was still internalizing them to myself and abusing myself, trying to find the reason why these things had happened to me. Why I had been so easy to mutilate and objectify that way.  
  
And then, without warning, the tears began to flow anew. I was a silent crier, the type to never sob or blubber, just simply allow the tears to flow freely. I'm quite sure he wouldn't have even noticed my crying if it hadn't been for the fact that the tears were soaking through his tunic. He didn't say anything, but he placed the hand that had been encompassing my shoulder on my head and stroked my hair the way he always seemed to do when I was crying. When the tears started to come down harder he turned me around so that my legs were stretched out and my back was leaning against him. He turned so that my back was to his chest and his legs swathed my waist. He wrapped both arms around my chest protectively and began to rock. The gentle back and forth motion was enough to lull me into a fitful sleep. I'm not sure when he actually laid me out and covered me, placing a fat feather pillow under my head. All I know is that I woke up much later on that sofa, enveloped in my blanket, fighting to see around me in the dim light of the embers, and alone. 


	10. Ten

Ten  
  
I sat up quietly and looked around me. It was as black in the room as it had been when we had first entered. Shit. I should have mentioned something about leaving a candle alight. I had never told anyone at Hogwarts about my completely irrational yet utterly overwhelming fear of the dark. I could feel my breathing getting heavier and my chest constricting as I fought to make sense of the shapeless shadows around me. I was like a claustrophobic in a coffin just then and was hoping that I wouldn't do anything stupid to make an ass of myself.  
  
No such luck. I felt around on the table above my head. No candles there. I swung around and felt blindly around on the table to the other side of me. No candles there either. Where had those candles been that Snape had lit earlier? Damned if I could remember. My breathing was getting more and more frantic as time drew on and just when I thought I'd lose myself for sure I felt a heavy hand fall upon my shoulder. I froze. I didn't even breathe. I really, really hoped that was Snape and no the boogeyman of my many nightmares.  
  
Nyctophobia, Lygophobia, Achluophobia, Myctophobia, Scotophobia. They could all be used to describe me right then. I was sure I would turn around to see some faceless horror that I had been dreaming up since I had developed this stupid unfounded fear. I finally exhaled when I heard his concerned voice ask me what on earth was the matter.  
  
"Light a candle. Please, could you just light a candle," I asked breathlessly. He did so immediately and returned to his seat beside me on the sofa, where I sat hugging my knees and regaining my composure. I looked behind me. He had been asleep. His bed was unmade and it looked as if he had been tossing and turning quite a bit.  
  
"Acacia." He was demanding my attention, and an explanation, but I couldn't give it. Not just yet. I felt so foolish I couldn't bring myself to look at him.  
  
"Acacia," he repeated, this time more forcefully. I knew what was coming next. He reached out to take my chin and coerce me into looking at him and as he did I brushed his hand aside and stood up. I sped around to the middle of the room and looked around me. Where the hell was the door? Why couldn't I have my bearings back yet?  
  
I found the exit and pushed it open fervently. I didn't even bother closing it as I slipped out into the corridor and leaned against the wall. Precious light. I was regaining my breathing when I heard him come out and stand beside me. I still didn't want to look at him.  
  
"Acacia, what in the name of Merlin -" I was sweating and still breathing rather hard but I just pushed myself away from the wall and began walking purposefully up corridor to the entrance hall. Once there I hoisted the great oak doors open and felt the cold air hit my face refreshingly. I peeked outside. It was a bright night, the full moon illuminating everything. I stepped out into the lawn and just stood, looking around me, shivering. I just needed to be outside. To be unconstrained. I heard the strong doors open behind me and then shut and I turned around to face him finally.  
  
He had a look of anger mixed with confusion mixed with concern plastered on his face and I tried to look apologetic. "If I come down there are you going to run away from me again?"  
  
"Maybe." I managed a weak smile. He did not look amused but he slowly descended the steps onto the lawn and I realized for the first time that he was wearing pajamas. I had never seen him in anything except his tunic and robe. He looked so - comfortable. It was a huge change. He was wearing a simple pair of cotton sleeper pants and a sleeper shirt. Not the button up kind, but more of a v-neck, long sleeved tee shirt. His feet were bare. For some reason that turned me on. I was a total dork.  
  
He had his hands in his pockets as he advanced on me and he just looked so casual. His hair was blowing around his face in the chilly breeze and he was keeping his eyes trained right on me. I realized how entirely opposite we must have looked. Me, blonde haired and blue eyed in a white robe and him all dark and brooding. The only thing we had in common was our pale skin.  
  
He walked right up to me, within a foot of my body and stopped. He didn't reach out. He didn't attempt to restrain me or hold me or even hug me. I appreciated that greatly. I think he could sense that I needed to be completely free just then. He didn't pry or try to get me to explain. He simply waited until I was ready. What a man.  
  
"I'm afraid of the dark," I told him quietly as I stared up at the moon.  
  
"You don't say."  
  
I smiled. He smiled. We were smiling and he looked beautiful.  
  
"Will you walk with me," I asked cautiously.  
  
He stepped forward and offered me his and. I took it reluctantly and he held it so gently it was liable to slip out of his grasp at any moment. He was so perfect. We turned toward the lake and began to walk. 


	11. Eleven

Eleven  
  
As I may have mentioned before the entire world seemed bathed in the moonlight and under that pale light my companion looked ethereal and almost peaceful. Almost. There were still little stress lines around the outsides of his eyes, and where his brow was always furrowed. His eyes still seemed to harbor some silent mysterious - well, something. When we had got halfway around the lake we stopped to watch the giant squid bathing its tentacles in the light of the moon. Somewhere off in the distance I heard the howl of a wolf. It was almost Halloween. Only one workweek to go.  
  
"Did I ever tell you that Halloween is my favorite holiday," I asked as I dropped his hand and sat down upon the bank of the lake. To my surprise he condescended to joint me, and we both sat cross-legged at the edge of the water. I reached down and put my toes in, shivering at the wintriness of it.  
  
"No, he answered. You never did." He was now assuming the position I was so fond of, his legs up against his chest, hugged by his strong arms, and his knee resting on his chin. He stared out across the water as if he were a million miles away. Watching him there in the moonlight I felt as if I could see a part of him that had been hidden for most of his life. It was a hint of what I had seen earlier that night, in front of the fire. I got the sense that he was being completely himself. It was a refreshing change.  
  
"Why are you afraid of the dark," he asked finally. I cast my gaze out across the lake with his, staring up at the all-seeing moon above. I was pretty sure that was genuine interest in his voice, but I was in a bit of a quandary. You see, I was tired of constantly revealing myself to him. I was tired of always being the one to bare my soul to him and never get anything in return.  
  
"First you need to tell me something about you."  
  
His gaze faltered and turned to me. I pretended not to notice. "What do you want to know?"  
  
I thought for a moment. I wasn't really sure. To be honest I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know his past. I wanted to know how he had come to be a teacher in the first place. I wanted to know why he was so bitter and angry with the world.  
  
"Everything," I finally answered.  
  
He smiled quietly at me. I faced him to return the smile. His eyes seemed to dance for the first time. Perhaps this was the first time anyone had ever shown an interest in him.  
  
"How did you end up as a teacher here," I asked. Perhaps if I gave him a jumping off point he would find it a bit easier.  
  
He sighed. It had sounded like a heavy sigh. He tossed his head back and let his hair fall out of his face. I was suddenly overcome with the urge to brush it back and just run my fingers through it. I stood up, him watching my every move, and sat back down directly behind him. I placed one leg on either side of him and reached my hands up to his head. His skin was warm and surprisingly a bit sweaty. I brushed each strand of hair back from his face and neck and then placed a hand on each of his shoulders.  
  
I began to massage his muscles with the tenderness I had inherited from my mother. Slowly the knots began to soften themselves and a low moan sounded from deep within him. I placed my lips to his ear and gently reminded him that he was supposed to be telling me a story.  
  
"I graduated from Hogwarts a full fifteen years ago. I was a boy of eighteen who thought he possessed the wisdom of an elder. I had been a Slytherin, and as such had been mates with all of the prominent wizarding families. At least the dark ones. Malfoy and I could have rivaled Potter and Weasly in our day." He spat out their names as if they were dirty words. I slowly pushed him forward so that he was hunched over a little and worked my way down his lower back.  
  
"Wherever Malfoy went I was sure to follow. And of course he followed his father's footsteps straight into Voldemort's throng." He stopped here. I think he expected me to stop my massage and listen in horror or disbelief. I just kept right on going and told him his story wasn't over yet.  
  
"I've never admitted this to anyone except the minister of magic and Dumbledore himself."  
  
"Well you've already admitted it and I haven't run screaming for the hills yet. Go on," I urged as I worked the muscles of his lower back.  
  
"Well, my area of concentration in school had been potions, and Voldemort was in desperate need of a personal apothecary. You know. To brew all those nasty things you couldn't order from any respectable apothecary. Enter yours truly."  
  
I pulled him back so that he was leaning against me and tilted his head back once again. There was that old familiar scent of cinnamon and sage drifting from his hair and I brushed it back in order to gain easier access to his neck. I began to work it slowly, silently, as he went on.  
  
"I spent two years in his service before I realized my mistake, but by then it was far too late to save my soul. I had been claimed by evil. My potions had helped Voldemort to take many an innocent life. I was tainted by the sin of these two hands." He held up his paw like hands for me to see. I began to work on his temples.  
  
"I thought sure it was too late for me. But finally one day I had seen enough. I had seen enough carnage and death and destruction. I had seen my own family wiped away at the hands of the Dark Lord while I could only stand around and watch. What was one wizard against a hoard of them? I ran to Dumbledore and begged with all my soul for his forgiveness. I promised him that if he would only show me mercy I would repent for what I had done. I promised to -" He stopped. I wasn't sure if this was the right time to press him, and so I just continued my work on his temples. When he didn't continue his story I finished it for him.  
  
"You became a spy," I stated matter of factly.  
  
"For an eighteen year old girl you certainly are perceptive."  
  
"I'd like to thank the academy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing." Silence then, for quite some time, before the conversation started anew.  
  
"That feels good," he told me as I finished smoothing out the skin around his face. He was beginning to look relaxed and almost calm. I pulled him back against me and wrapped my arms around his chest as he had with me earlier. I didn't rock, but we just sat there, my arms around him, his hands holding onto them, watching the world go by. I never mentioned it but as he reached up to grasp my arms, almost seeming to need the contact, his left sleeve slipped back a bit and I could see the angry ashen tattoo upon his forearm, black and ugly against such beauty. And that was when I knew that what I felt for him truly was love. For if you can love someone who has been marked by such evil, and look past it to see his true beauty, only then can you truly say that you have loved. 


	12. Twelve

Twelve  
  
The week went by quickly. It was strange being back in classes and being treated as a typical annoying student by Snape. However, it was funny in it's own right, playing a secret charade to the rest of the school.  
  
I hadn't been placed in another house. Dumbledore had merely given me and the rest of Ravenclaw a speech on the importance of tolerance and compassion for all people, and insisted that my things be returned and left alone from then on. I, of course, had taken to avoiding the house at all times unless completely unavoidable.  
  
Most of my time was spent in classes or the library. Sometimes I would wander outside for a cigarette, but I noticed that I was smoking quite a bit less frequently these days. Nights were my favorite time. I would wait until everyone had fallen asleep, then put on my cloak of invisibility and run down to the dungeons or out onto the grounds for a little rendezvous. Yes, I just said rendezvous. Yes, I am a dork. A total, hopeless dork who just happened to be completely, head over heals, retarded for a certain potions master.  
  
Soon I found myself on the verge of All Hallows Eve. Usually I spent the evening alone simply enjoying the sheer magic of the night. This year a ball had been planned for all students fifth year and up.  
  
I had been flattered and mortified at the same time when a fifth year Hufflepuff had approached me Halloween afternoon at the lunch table and asked, in front of the entire school, if I would do him the pleasure of accompanying him to the ball. I had turned seven shades of purple and glanced casually up to Snape. Was I asking his permission or begging him to get me out of it?  
  
"Nevin, how kind of you," I faltered after I had choked down the mouthful of pumpkin juice I had been using to stall. "However, I'm afraid I simply can't accept. You see, I have been silly enough to bungle a potions essay and will be serving detention this evening." I glanced up at Severus, questioningly. He raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his own pumpkin juice, nodding slightly as he did. I think Minerva may have noticed something, but if she did she had simply gone back to her dinner and pretended she hadn't. Albus had smiled slightly, that characteristic twinkle invading his blue eyes, and glanced from Snape to myself and back again before turning his utmost attention to the condition of the "sky" overhead.  
  
"I'm so sorry," I offered as consolation to the stricken look upon his face. "I really am flattered." That seemed to have done the trick because he had managed a weak smile then, thanked me for my time, and returned to his table where a group of Hufflepuff girls were waiting for their own invitation from him.  
  
The rest of the school had been in an uproar about the scene the rest of the day. I kept getting snotty looks from the Hufflepuff girls and curious glances from the Ravenclaws. The Gryffindors and Slytherins just ignored me, as usual. That afternoon in Charms class I had received a slip of parchment via Snape's mail raven. It said simply, "you may report to the classroom at eight o'clock for your "detention."  
  
I smiled, folded it up, hid it in my robes, and went on copying lines.  
  
I rushed through dinner and then ran back upstairs to pull a brush through my hair before going down to the classroom. I walked in five minutes early to find that the classroom was entirely dark. "Lumos," I whispered to my wand. The door closed behind me and for a fleeting second I thought I was going to have a repeat of the incident in Snape's rooms, but as it clicked shut the sconces on the walls roared to life.  
  
I gasped in amazement. The room had been dressed to the nines. Small jack o' lanterns and carved gourds adorned the workstations, their candles flickering within casting an eerily romantic glow around the room. Live bats hung from the rafters and a few flitted noisily above my head. The center of the room had been cleared and had been enchanted to look like a small forest clearing, complete with dry leaves, tall bare trees draped with fairies whose lights shined pale and soft within them, and a night sky to rival the one in the great hall. There was even a pleasant breeze blowing through the room, which carried the scent of the leaves.  
  
I walked into the center of the room and searched for Snape. He had really outdone himself. Before I had turned a complete circle I felt his arm fall around my waist from behind and his strong jaw fall beside my ear. He placed on large hand on my belly, which felt strangely warm and tingly inside, and used his free hand to turn my head to the side. He placed a potent kiss square on my lips, causing them to flush and swell, and then asked me if I could give him the pleasure of a dance.  
  
I smiled, gave him my hand, and turned to face him. He assumed the proper position, one arm around my waist, our hands held out to our sides, and my arm draped around his shoulder. And we danced. And the longer we did the closer we got until my head was resting on his shoulder and his arms were wrapped protectively around me.  
  
Finally I looked up into those deep dark eyes. "Happy Halloween," he whispered before placing another one of those fiery kisses on my lips, his index finger under my chin and one hand placed firmly against the small of my back, pressing me against him in the most comfortable embrace I had ever felt.  
  
When the kiss was over I looked back into his eyes and he asked me if I'd like to retire to somewhere a bit more comfortable. I nodded and smiled. We both knew what was coming but neither of us needed to articulate it. It would have spoiled the aura of it all.  
  
I took the hand he offered me and we left through a secret passageway on the right of the classroom, reappearing in his room. We stepped out from behind the fireplace and he replaced it, then turned and muttered a quick spell, pointed his wand at the grate, and conjured the warmest fire I had ever felt.  
  
He met my gaze and for once I wasn't afraid to look at him. My breathing was growing heavier, as was his. He held my face up towards his and considered me for a moment.  
  
"Acacia, I don't want to pressure you into anything. God knows I don't deserve someone like you. But if you'd have me -"  
  
I placed one gentle finger to his lips, willing him to hush. I looked at him, trying out my old Jedi mind trick once again. This time it seemed to work for he picked me up and draped me across his arms and carried me easily over to the bed. There he laid me on my back, and as gently as could be reached down and took my shoes off my feet, one at a time. Then he worked his way around the bed, drawing the heavy velvet drapes around us. There was no canopy above us and so the light from the fire shone in nicely, casting shadows in all the right places.  
  
Slowly he took his place beside me and I turned onto my side, the better to see him. He placed his hand on my cheek and the kiss that followed was one that I'm sure I could never forget no matter how desperately I wanted to.  
  
I whimpered slightly as I let his tongue slide past my lips and dance across my own. It was not a whimper of protest, and he seemed to realize this, because he grew more bold and I responded mightily. This seemed to egg him on because he rolled me over onto my back with a slight groan, straddled me, and cupped my face in both of his ample hands.  
  
He broke the embrace then, his breathing ragged and heavy. "Acacia, I don't want you to go through with this if -"  
  
"Severus," I sighed heavily from underneath him. "Shut up and get on with it." He did as he was asked. I found my hands exploring his body as naturally as if I had done it a thousand times. The first thing I did was to reach up and free his hair from the loose ponytail he had put it in. I tossed the ribbon to the side of us and moved my hands longingly down his chest, unbuttoning each button of his black dress tunic. Once I had done that I slid my hands inside and peeled it off him slowly but deliberately.  
  
My hands found a veritable playground on his smooth, warm skin. I ran them up his back and down his chest and back again as if I had never felt anything like it in my life. Meanwhile he had busied himself with my robe, pulling it over my head to leave me in a revealing red bodice and black silk skirt.  
  
His hands discovered every inch of my body, concentrating on my shoulders and clavicle. Eventually he reached around to my back and undid the numerous hooks and eyes that held the thing on. He slid it off my arms and laid it gently beside us. I was now naked from the waist up and feeling rather vulnerable but his touch was so gentle and his kisses so tender that I felt comfortable in that vulnerability.  
  
Eventually my hands grew bored with his chest and longed for something else to hold their attention. I ran them down his abdomen, past his navel, and hooked my fingers inside the waistband of his cotton dress slacks, my thumbs outside. It was his turn to hitch his breath and he rolled his head all the way back letting loose a titan moan. I gently unhooked the button and ran the zipper all the way down. Then I slid my thumbs gently between the waistband and his skin and slid his trousers all the way down to his knees. I used my feet to remove them the rest of the way.  
  
I could feel that he was amply prepared and so I took on of his timid hands and placed it on the waistband of my skirt, willing him to get on with it. He undid the button and zipper on the side a bit clumsily, but managed to slide it all too slowly down. I could feel a long-forgotten ache deep in my belly. It seemed my body was writhing in anticipation of the act.  
  
He returned his hands to my waist and slid my knickers down as well. I lifted my hips a bit to aid the process and felt him against me. This sent my head into a bit of a dizzy spell and I gasped.  
  
"What's wrong," he asked, freezing above me.  
  
"Nothing," I puffed heavily beneath him. "Don't stop." I hope I didn't sound too much like I was begging. It seemed to spur him on because he took my head in both of his hands and placed another hard kiss on my lips as he slid himself between my legs.  
  
He was so gentle with me through the whole thing, I was amazed at his patience. He waited until I had enjoyed him entirely before he finished, gasped hard, fell against me, and then rolled over onto his back. We fell asleep in each other's arms, my head buried between his strong arm and gently rising and falling chest. 


	13. Thirteen

Thirteen  
  
The day started out normally enough. If normal for you was waking up in a pile of your own drool beside your potions master. Yep. Normal day. I opened my left eye first, because it was the one that wasn't pressed against the mattress. I had buried my head underneath my pillows and had to lift them from my head to look around. I rolled my eye around in my socket. The fire must be out because there was no light on the ceiling and the heavy velvet curtains around our bed - our bed? - were killing any other light there might be in the room beyond. I rolled over onto my other side and gently pried the curtain back. Nope. No light. How could I have expected Severus Snape to let a window grace his room. I sighed and turned my face back over my shoulder to look at him. He was asleep, face down on the mattress, but his arms were now clutching the spot where my body had just been. How cute. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, stretched, and yawned. Then I stepped from behind the curtain into the room with my wand at the ready.  
  
"Lumos," I whispered. A small cone of light encircled me and it was enough to keep the monsters away because I was able to cross the room to a candelabra and light all seven of the candles in it without having a panic attack. I looked around to the two doors I had noticed my first night here. The one on the right, I had ascertained, was the kitchenette. So that would make the one on the left the bathroom, which was where I needed to go.  
  
I entered the doorway, found the sink, set my candelabra down upon its marble surface, and looked around. There were sconces on the wall so I walked over to each of them, muttering a charm and warming slightly as they blazed to life. In the light this was quite an impressive loo. The walls were stone, like the rest of the apartment, but the floor was black marble, as was the surface of the sink. The faucets were all gold with crystal knobs. I was floored at the size of the bath. It was more like a four- foot hole in the ground - like a Jacuzzi - with a ring around the edge that was only a foot down from the lip. For sitting on, I was guessing. I crossed the room, my feet smacking the marble, and closed the door. Then I inspected the cupboard for a towel, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I retrieved all of these and then went over to the bath and turned on the water. It was steamy and warm, but it took almost ten minutes for the thing to fill up. It was kind of a waste of water, I thought.  
  
In any case I undid the buttons on the front of the robe I had put on before crossing the main room. It was Snape's, I could tell by the size of it. It hung a foot too long in the sleeves and at the hem, and dragged behind me when I walked. No matter. I slid it off and let it fall in a silky heap on the floor. I dropped my wand on top of it and stepped out of the pile of black silk and into the bath. The water warmed me from the inside out. It was a marvelous feeling. As I sat there contemplating the events of the prior evening, I'll confess I felt a bit uncomfortable.  
  
It wasn't the first time I'd had sex, but it was the first time I'd had sex with a teacher. How does one greet one's potions professor the morning after, I wondered. I really had no clue at all. So I just sat there in the bath, my hair washed and wet, scrubbing myself and basically enjoying the water lazily. It was a Saturday, so I wouldn't be expected anywhere, and I was free to laze here as long as I wanted. Or until Snape kicked me out. Whichever came first. I wondered how the water seemed to stay so warm, never chilling to the temperature of the room. But the fact remained that it didn't and I presently fell asleep there in the bath, my head leaning back on the marble floor, a slight snore escaping my nasal passage.  
  
"Acacia." I didn't want to be disturbed so I ignored the voice at first. "Acacia." There it was, and more forceful this time, and though I desperately wanted to tune it out I found myself wondering why my "bed" felt so wet and why there would be a mans voice in the Ravenclaw girls' dorms trying to rip me from my comfortable sleep. And then I shot bold upright and realized that I was naked in Snape's bathtub and that it was he who was trying to wake me up.  
  
I spun around to see him holding up my towel for me to step into. I looked around me. For some reason I felt a slight bit uncomfortable being naked in front of him now. I don't know what had made it so easy last night.  
  
He must have sensed my modesty because he rolled his eyes and adopted a more agitated stance, putting all his weight on one foot. "Do you think I didn't see you last night," he asked, annoyed. I didn't move. I just looked at him blankly. He let out an exasperated huff and turned his back toward me, holding the towel out with one hand and covering his eyes with the other. "Now will you get out," he begged.  
  
I stood and climbed out of the tub. "Be careful of the marble," he warned from behind his bony hand. "It's very easy to slip on with wet feet." I walked quickly over and took the towel from my improvised towel rack. Wrapped it around myself, and turned to face him.  
  
"I have news for you. But you'll want to get dressed and warm and come sit in the other room before I share it with you," he told me quietly. There was no hint of the conviviality that generally accompanies a man who's just had a night of wanton sex. I screwed up my nose and looked at him, puzzled. He gave me no clue, just pointed toward the sink, where the robe had been folded up and my wand had been placed, and said, "Your things are just there." Then he left, closing the door again behind him.  
  
What a weirdo. I just shrugged it off and dressed, wrapping the belt of the robe twice around me and holding it up around my ankles so as not to slip when I walked. My hands barely peeked out the bottom of the sleeves, but I held my wand between my forefinger and thumb and walked out to the main room.  
  
Snape was sitting before the fire on the couch, a glass of wine in his hand and his head, his left temple, really, cradled in his hand. It was then that I became a bit worried. I crossed the room and sat beside him, my knees pulled up and my arms hugging them. I stared at him. I didn't want to ask what was wrong, because from the look on his face it wasn't your typical misadventure that had got him in this mood. Something really was wrong. Finally he handed me an envelope, opened but crisp, with my name written upon the front in angry red ink. I looked from the letter to him and back again before taking it with a slightly trembling hand. I turned it over and lifted the flap, whose seal was already broken, and removed a piece of parchment. Before I could unfold and read it he began to speak.  
  
"Dumbledore delivered it to me a moment ago," he told me in a shaky voice. It was written by him, and he didn't seal it. I only thought to take a peek. See what news you had. Acacia, I never expected -" I cut him off by opening the parchment and reading.  
  
"Dear Acacia, I write to you this evening with a heavy heart. I don't know quite how to say it, except to just spit it out, so here it is. Your parents, my dear sister and brother in law, were found murdered in their home early Tuesday morning. Their throats had been cut and they had been dead at least since early the previous evening. Arrangements are being made for their funeral and we would like nothing more than for you to be here. I'm sure it is what they would have wanted. If you can't bring yourself to attend the funeral at least come home and be here for all of us. There is the matter of the will to settle, as well. I won't bother you with petty details now. Suffice it to say that much was left to you and I'm sure you'll want to come and collect your things. Hurry home to us, Acacia.  
  
Yours in grief, Your Uncle Lupus and Aunt Adonna" 


	14. Fourteen

Fourteen  
  
I didn't know what was the customary reaction in this particular situation, so I just didn't react at all. I just held the letter there, not reading it, my hand trembling ever so slightly and my eyes staring a million miles beyond the fire. I wanted to toss the letter into the fire and just do away with it all. If there was no letter it couldn't be true, could it?  
  
I can't relate exactly what I was feeling at that moment. It was a mixture of every bad feeling one is capable of, I think, which produced a bitter cocktail of pain deep in my chest. I hadn't been extremely close to my parents. Hell, for quite a few years I had been sure I didn't even like them. You all understand how it is. Your parents are Gods until puberty turns you into Satan and you want something better. At least that was what Palahniuk said, and I believed Palahniuk. But deep down under my tough exterior I had loved them, somehow, and I certainly hadn't wanted them to die.  
  
I was befuddled and perplexed. I had seen plenty of movies where the heroine learns that her parents have passed and flings herself into a tizzy, screaming and crying and tearing her clothes and gnashing her teeth. I didn't have this in me. I looked up to Snape, who refused to return my gaze and simply took a long swig of his strawberry wine. I could feel my chin starting to tremble a la Claire Daines in Romeo and Juliet. I desperately needed someone older and wiser to hold me tight and protect me and tell me everything would be fine. I wasn't an orphan. I still had people who loved me.  
  
But as the moments went on and neither comfort, nor any recognition came from Snape I accepted my fate. I was alone in this. I stood, tossed the letter into the fire, and located my clothes.  
  
"Acacia -" he called from the couch. Fuck him. He couldn't even be bothered to stand up and console me. I didn't need him. But the truth is I wasn't entirely sure I wanted him to do anything. Looking back on it all I'm actually very sure that what I needed right at that moment was to accept the fact on my own, without any emotions toward Snape getting in the way. And deep down, as he always seems to do with the important things, he sensed this. I know he sensed it. I quickly threw the robe off, dressed, and gathered my wand.  
  
"Acacia -" he called once more as I left and this time he turned to face me as I stopped in the doorway, my hand on the frame to steady myself. I stopped but did not turn to face him. I couldn't face him. Not yet. I was reminded of one of Palahniuk's novels. It was the one where the model shoots off half of her own face with a rifle. While she's laying in her hospital bed her boyfriend, Manus, is sitting beside her looking at the police photos. Big glossy black and whites, just like the head and shoulder shots she kept in her portfolio. Only these were a stark contrast to the ones she would so potential employers. Manus sat there, turning and flipping through the photos and she asked him if she could see them. He told her that he couldn't show her the pictures. His family used to raise Dobermans, he said. Or maybe it was Rottwielers, I couldn't remember. In any case these particular dogs always had their tails and ears clipped as puppies. His family, he said, would take them to a seedy motel where a man with a case would sedate them and clip their parts in the bathtub. You can't take them to your vet to have it done, because the dog will remember and hate you forever for being the man who cut it's tail off.  
  
I felt like that dog just then. I was lying in my own bathtub, blood running down the drain and more than one piece of myself missing. And the only man I had ever truly, really, honest to Merlin loved had been the one to give the snip.  
  
"I'll be here when you're ready," he told me from his perch on the sofa. I nodded curtly and made my way out the door. 


	15. Fifteen

Fifteen  
  
I burst through the portrait hole and into the Ravenclaw dormitory in a huff. I wasn't sure how I was going to get home or how I could convince my teachers to excuse me from class for a quick trip to America, but I knew I was going and that was that. I opened the door to my common room to find all three of my evil roommates sitting on their respective beds and avoiding mine as if it were poison.  
  
"And where were you last night?"  
  
"None of your sodding business," I cooed charmingly as I dragged my trunk out from under my bed and began to throw clothes into it.  
  
"Where are you going now?" This time they actually sounded interested.  
  
I tossed one of my robes into the trunk and heard it slap hard against the floor of the trunk. I spun around, my wand out and danger in my eyes. "Again," I said with acid dripping from my tongue, "none. of. your. sodding. business." I raised my eyebrows to them, challenging them to confront me one more god damned time. No one said anything then, and my voice must have been enough to convey my irritation because they all just stared at me as I went about collecting the rest of my things, levitating my trunk, and heading back off out of the dormitory.  
  
I walked with purpose straight up to the stone gargoyle that precluded Dumbledore's office. "Sugar bean," I told it as if I had been telling it the temperature outside. It slid slowly off to the side and revealed a winding set of stairs. I climbed them quickly and rapped at the door I found at the top. It was opened before I finished my third rap and Dumbledore was silhouetted against the warm glow of the fire and the sunlight filtering in through the draperies.  
  
I stepped inside without having to be asked and allowed my trunk to drop on the floor. "I'm going home for a tick," I told him quietly.  
  
"Most understandable," he answered as he made his way back over to his desk and motioned for me to join him. I sat in one of the comfy armchairs across from the desk, the same one I had always chosen while my counseling sessions had still been going on. I leaned my head against the high back of the chair and tried to regulate my breathing at a normal level.  
  
"I will send you to London by way of the Hogwarts Express," he told me as if he had been contemplating just how to take care of the situation before I had even arrived. From there you can take the muggle train to Heathrow and catch a flight back home." I nodded in understanding. He leaned across the desk then and fixed me with a very serious stare. "Acacia I don't know what to say to make anything better -"  
  
"Don't say anything," I begged him with my eyes still closed and my face still pointed heavenward. "Just don't. I'm a big girl. I can handle this on my own."  
  
"All the same," he went on unphased, "I must insist on sending someone with you. To watch over you and make sure that whomever had these designs for your parents doesn't have the same for you as well." I started to protest but he held up his hand, willing me to stop before I even had a chance to get going. He motioned off to his right as if asking someone to step forward. And step forward someone did.  
  
My eyes widened and I looked desperately from Dumbledore to Snape and back again. Snape? Snape was going to accompany me to America while I paid my last respects to my parents? This could not be happening. It wasn't that I didn't want him there. Or that I didn't trust him. I did. It was just - I don't know what it was but it felt wrong. I got the distinct impression that I would be the one watching over Snape, not the other way around. But his bags were already packed and lying at his feet. He was already wearing his traveling cloak and gloves. I decided it wasn't worth fighting with Dumbledore about. If he wanted to send Snape into the American wilderness that was my family so be it.  
  
"Fine. But I'm not promising this is going to be easy. And it's not going to be some silly little vacation either," I told him seriously. Why was I being so mean? I didn't know for sure, but I felt I had every right to be given the circumstances. "My family is complex at best and you'll never get along with them."  
  
"Very well," he nodded starkly, his hands clasped behind his back and looking very proper indeed. "I believe I can hold my own." I groaned an assent. How the hell was I going to explain him to New England? 


	16. Sixteen

Sixteen  
  
The ride on the Hogwarts Express was uneventful enough. It was just Snape and I in the entire train and it was a very peaceful ride. Well, as peaceful as it could be. Snape was still keeping his distance and I was still happy enough with that. I needed to grieve alone before I could accept any consolation from anyone else.  
  
We sat in the same car, and I'd be lying if I told you, faithful reader, that I wasn't happy to have someone else there. His presence was calming, at least, and though we didn't talk I know we both enjoyed the scenery as it whirled past us at a million light years a second. Normally the ride took forever and I became deathly bored with the view. But today it was quite pleasant to just sit and watch the world go by. Nothing to do but think things through.  
  
I was surprised I wasn't craving a cigarette by the time we got to Kings Cross. This was where thing started to get interesting. And I stress the word start because the next week of my life was about to prove one of the most interesting weeks of my life. To say the least.  
  
We stepped onto the platform and collected our things. I was dressed in a simple muggle skirt and button up collar shirt. It would be rather difficult to explain away Severus' mystical appearance and somewhat strange clothing. Ah well. Such is the price of protection, I suppose.  
  
He had his hair pulled back from his face and secured in a loose ponytail with a length of black ribbon. Wisps of raven hair fell around his face and framed it, lending him the look of some foreign gentleman or heir to some faraway throne. As we stepped through the barrier and acclimated ourselves as well as we could with the muggle population, I grew a bit jealous to see more than a few women watching Snape with interest. What was their problem anyway? Couldn't they see that I was mourning here. Instinctively I reached out and took his arm in both of mine, returning their looks of disappointment with a protective frown.  
  
We found our train without incident and settled in for a quick trip downtown to the Airport. This was where the complications set it. Thanks to tension in the muggle world between almost every nation Snape was put through a rigorous check at our terminal before we could board the plane. He was mortified when asked to remove his cloak, shoes, gloves, and to empty the contents of his pocket. I crossed my fingers and prayed, hoping he hadn't been fool enough to bring some kind of buoy knife or something. The only thing they questioned him about was his wand.  
  
It was a rather ingenious explanation on his part. He simply told them that he was a wizard and that was his magic wand. For a moment I thought they were about to haul him in for questioning but they settled for giving him a look of distrust and sending him through the metal detector to reclaim his shoes. I smiled slightly as he sat to put them back on, looking ruffled and confused but not about to bother me with questions about what was going on. Always thinking of me, he was.  
  
We boarded the plane and I took the window seat first thing. I loved to fly and was sure that this would relax me just a bit. But when I turned to see how Snape was settling in he looked like a child on Christmas Eve, staring with longing at the gifts under the tree. He was leaning as far over me as he could without being obtrusive, trying to get a look at what was outside the plane. I sighed and rolled my eyes, stood up, pressed myself up against the seat in front of me, and waved him over into my seat. I took his and was rewarded a thousand times over at the look of awe on his face as he inspected the runway from the reinforced window. I shook my head, wondering who had been the last person to see awe written upon the face of Severus Snape. It was worth giving up the good seat.  
  
When the engines kicked into life and the entire plane began to hum Snape jumped visibly and placed his hands palms down on the armrests, fingers splayed frightened cat style. His eyes were wider than usual and he tried to stare straight ahead and suffer through the ordeal on his own. Always thinking of my best interests. I smiled at him and placed my hand upon one of his own.  
  
"Relax," I told him quietly and softly. "Take off is the best part. Don't ruin it with panic."  
  
He smiled as if I were being silly. Nothing was wrong. Really. He didn't laugh nervously outwardly but the nervous laughter was spilling from his eyes. I rolled my eyes heavenward and cast my gaze ahead again. I rested my head on the back of my seat and closed my eyes. I loved the feeling of takeoff. I relished it. Landing just wasn't the same, though it was fun as well, and the actual flying just couldn't compare.  
  
We began to taxi across the runway and I could feel Severus' pulse rising through the veins in his hand. I took his hand full in mine and squeezed. Hard. He opened his eyes and rolled his head toward me, still resting against the back of the seat. He forced a smile and then looked straight ahead again. I sighed. This really was going to be more like me babysitting him.  
  
Finally the engines kicked on full power and we began to sprint down the final stretch of the runway, our front wheel leaving the ground first and then the rest of us. The plane began to bank and I could feel my breathing getting heavier, my pulse rising as I felt the turbulence rock our little vessel. I think that's what I loved most about flying. The vulnerability. It was the freedom of knowing that at any moment you could just drip from 30,000 feet above the ground and every little worry you had on your mind would be wiped away, dry erase style. Your job and your grades and your dead parents would just slip placidly to the back of your mind while you worried about soaring toward the ground without a parachute. Morbid, aren't I?  
  
Once the plane balanced itself and we were well above the clouds a stewardess came by with her cart of goodies. Free soda and peanuts. What bliss. I looked up at her as she stopped at our row and noticed how she had looked from Severus to our hands (still clasped firmly together), frowned, and asked me curtly what I wanted. I told her I wanted a coke, which she veritably tossed at me. Then she smiled sweetly at Severus and, putting on her sweetest voice, asked him what he would like to drink. He looked positively mortified, not knowing the slightest think about muggle beverages. I stepped up to the plate double quick.  
  
"He'll have a rum and coke," I told her in a sickly sweet voice with a sickly sweet smile. I wrinkled my nose at her when I was finished just for good measure. She screwed her face up in a fake smile and scrunched her shoulders up before going to work on his drink. She finally handed it to him, making sure to run her fingers against his as she did. She was about to leave when I reminded her, ever so amiably that she had forgotten our peanuts. She scowled, served them, and headed off down the aisle. 


	17. Seventeen

Seventeen  
  
Our landing was uneventful, except for the screaming baby that we had to listen to for the three hours prior. By the time we were just outside of Boston Severus was wincing and putting pressure on his temple every time the infant hit a new high note. I giggled inwardly. I'd always had a high tolerance for babies. It was just in my nature I supposed. My parents had both had no patience for them, and so I suppose their mutual hatred for them had cancelled out and caused a reverse reaction in me. Or maybe I was just psychotic. Probably that was it.  
  
We landed, collected our things from the overhead compartment, and waited for everyone else to get off. It was easier, I explained to Severus, than fighting to squeeze through the tiny door with about fifty other people. Severus was obviously frazzled. Though I think he enjoyed the flight, it had been about seven hours, give or take, and anyone's behind would be numb by then. On a side note he had been enthralled by the on flight movies. There had been two - Red Dragon with Anthony Hopkins and Edward Norton (yum, ladies), and Spiderman with Tobey Maguire (also yummy). Living up to his legend he thoroughly enjoyed Red Dragon, identifying greatly with the madman Hannibal Lecter but utterly perplexed by the web slinging weirdo, as he referred to Spiderman.  
  
We sidled out of the plane and into the terminal, both rather exhausted. It may be ten o'clock in the morning in America, by according to the jolly old English it was jolly old four in the morning according to our bodies and we were dead on our feet. My uncle and his wife were waiting for us at the terminal. I couldn't say that they were bright eyed and bushy tailed, but they were certainly trying to put their best faces forward.  
  
My uncle came forward first. He extended his hand to Severus, a smile upon his face and kindness in his eyes. Damn him. He was going to make this standoffish thing so hard to pull off.  
  
"I'm Lupus. Lupus Green. This is my wife, Adonna. And you must be Severus. Albus has sent us an owl telling us all about you." He took a step back and inspected Severus then, giving him the once over. "You're right brave wearing that cloak in here. My hat's off to ya, what with all the racial profiling goin' on these days. C'mon. Let's head out." Uncle Lupus clapped a huge hand on Severus' back and steered him out of the terminal ahead of my aunt and I. I looked up to my aunt Adonna, confused.  
  
My aunt looked more the picture of a mourning sister in law. Her eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed and her hair, usually full and sleek, was pulled back into a long black ponytail. She picked up Severus' bags, which he had left behind in the wake of hurricane Lupus and we began to walk.  
  
"What the hell's the matter with him," I asked my aunt as we followed the two out of the airport. My uncle was talking and gesticulating animatedly to Severus as if meeting up with an old friend for the first time in years. My aunt sighed heavily.  
  
"He's in denial, I think, dear," she answered heavily. "He's been like this since the day after we found out. At first he was normal. You know. Sobbing and crying and behaving like anyone would in these circumstances. But then he just - switched. Turned into a whole other person. Said there was no point in grieving, what's done is done. Said for every evil there's a good to counteract it." A strange look came over her face then. She looked at me when she said her next sentence. "Come to think of it, dear, it was right after he got the letter from Dumbledore about your consort there. What did it say?"  
  
"I don't know," I answered, confused. I looked up to Severus, my eyes narrowed. He was looking back at me while trying to walk forward with Uncle Lupus pulling him, begging me to save him. I decided to let him suffer a little longer. 


	18. Eighteen

Eighteen  
  
It was an interesting trip out of Boston and into the country until we could find a place to apparate. Once we did, though, it was a quick trip to my uncle's farm in Coskata, which is just off the coast of Massachusetts. It's a pretty secluded place and mostly just sand and beach. Most people think Coskata is just a wildlife refuge, but hundreds of years ago, when it wasn't so popular to be a witch or a wizard in America, my great great great great great great great uncle Rowan built a farm out here and protected it with many of the same charms that are used to protect Hogwarts. He moved his family out to the farm and it's been a homestead ever since. Of course not much will grow out in the sand but you can keep a few patches of grass growing farther inland and horses can live off of that. Furthermore, it is an island, silly, and the fishing is amazing. There's also plenty of deer and birds (if you happen to get really desperate), so it's not a totally barren place. I can actually think of no place I'd rather be if I couldn't stay in England.  
  
We entered the house, a two story white wooden farmhouse with lots of windows and a porch that wrapped all the way around the perimeter to a cascade of clapping and hugs.  
  
"Acacia Acacia Acacia Acacia Acacia Acacia!" I was presently run into and knocked over onto my back by my six year old cousin Amanda. Her mother, Geneva, was my mother and my uncle Lupus' sister. She was the baby of the three, which made Amanda the baby of all of us cousins. Geneva's husband, my uncle Thomas was also there, along with their other son Rowan (named after my ancestor), who was ten. Also present were my uncle Lupus and aunt Adonna's three children, Rhea, who was fifteen, Norah, who was seventeen, and Adonis, who was my age.  
  
I sat up, Amanda still on my lap and clinging tightly to my waist and hugged her fondly. "Hey, kid," I tried to sound happy as hell. "What's goin' on? How's school?"  
  
"Good," she was bubbling. "I have a boyfriend."  
  
I laughed. "You do? "Why do you want one of those? Boys are icky." I heard Snape snort behind me and everyone became quiet. I realized it was now time to introduce my consort. I picked Amanda up and held her on my left hip. She hung on tight around my neck as I went and stood beside Snape. She hid her face behind my neck and peeked out behind my hair as I talked. He still won't admit it to this day but I noticed him smiling at her behind me as I introduced him.  
  
"Everyone, this is Snape. Severus Snape." I sighed. I was reminded of Bond. James Bond. "Albus, the headmaster at Hogwarts has sent him to see that whoever had it in for my mum and dad don't come after me as well." My family smiled knowingly to each other. As if they knew something I didn't. This perturbed me to no end. "What," I asked, irritated.  
  
"That English accent you've got now," my aunt Geneva teased from her spot at the table, a cup of strong black coffee grasped and steaming between her hands. She smiled and turned her attention back to the cup, shy as always in the face of a stranger.  
  
"Oh come on, aunt Gen," I begged as I set my cousin down and went over to the counter to fix myself a cup of tea. "I'm still the same as I always was. I'm just cultured now." Everyone laughed.  
  
"Look at you fixing tea," my uncle Lupus was the next to tease. "Used to be you could drink coffee just like the rest of us simple folks."  
  
I laughed. "Yes but I've since realized that coffee tastes like hell. Severus," I asked, looking up at the man who had till then been silent and remained in that same spot. "Would you like a cup?" He shook his head and held up a hand, mumbling a 'no thank you', but I pressed him. "You'd better have one," I said, finding the ball strainer I had bought on my summer trip last year and getting down two cups. "They've bought fresh tea, not those crappy tea bags, and they never even keep tea in the house unless they know I'm coming." I finally wore him down and fixed us each a cup.  
  
I couldn't help but feel that everyone was watching the way I interacted with him as I fixed his tea, brought it to him, and asked him if he'd like to have a seat. The whole house was almost silent. After I had finished cleaning up my mess I went and took a seat at the picnic style kitchen table with my aunt Geneva and Uncle Thomas.  
  
Everyone else was sitting and I realized that Severus probably expected someone to offer him a seat. This wasn't exactly customary here at the Green home, so I turned around and motioned for him to come in from the doorway and sit beside me. He did, reluctantly, and I began to speak. "Well are you all going to tell me who did this, and why, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?" I took a sip of tea. It was a good blend. Orange blossom, cinnamon, vanilla bean, chamomile, and sweetened with honey.  
  
"We don't know." I choked on my tea and Severus reflexively reached over and patted my back. I looked at him, confused, as if he was the one who had told me he didn't know who had killed my parents. He shrugged as if to ask me what I was looking at him that way for. I turned my attention to my family as a whole. "What do you mean? The killer was never caught? No one was ever found?"  
  
Everyone turned their gazes everywhere but at me. "No." A blue light was filtering in through the sheer white drapes at the windows and I realized that that light could only shine in a house beside the ocean. I suddenly hated that light. I loved it but I hated it at the same time. The way I loved and hated Snape at the moment he handed me that letter from Dumbledore.  
  
I was suddenly just so angry. So my parents were dead. They were cold and stiff and we were going to throw them in a hole in the ground in a few days and I'd never see them again and the person who did it would walk away free as a bird and live his life without having to answer for anything. I slammed my hands palms down on the table the way Snape had done when I had told him I'd never told anyone about what Michael had done before. I let out an exasperated yell and stood up and strode angrily out of the doorway. My heart sank when I saw Amanda, just coming in from playing in the ocean, flattened against the wall of the hallway trying to stay out of my way as I left the house in a huff. I don't think she'd ever seen me angry before and she looked scared shitless.  
  
I threw the screen door open and heard it slam shut on its hinges behind me. I was going for a ride. 


	19. Nineteen

Nineteen  
  
I slid the door to the stable open on its track and walked into the barn with bare feet. Our stable had been full of Bretons for as long as it had been standing. The Greens had been known for their love of Bretons and had been called on for ages to produce some of the best of the breed for hundreds of years. From my ancestor Rowan on up the family tree, every member of the family had been taught how to ride, care for, and breed the horses, and every member of my family was able to support themselves if they could support just one Breton stallion.  
  
The old barn creaked and sighed in the wind but it stood miraculously and I stepped on the wooden floorboards leaving bare footprints in the dust. I walked up the hallway that stood in the middle of two rows of twenty tie stalls. Not all of the stalls were filled, but some of the mares were. I quickly found my horse, a jet black gelding named Nero. He recognized me as I slid into his stall and ran my hand up his side. He whinnied and threw his head up and down with excitement. He'd missed me. I unhooked his halter from his trough and backed him out of the stall. Then I hooked him into the cross ties and found a curry comb and a brush. I went to work as if I hadn't been gone for a day. I knew all the spots that he loved to have massaged and I paid special attention to those. I rubbed fly oil on his face, legs, chest, and belly, where he would have a hard time swatting the pests. I lifted each of his hooves and picked the crud out of them. Then I went into the tack room and found his bridle. I had made it myself out of the hide of a deer I had killed the first year I had been hunting. It was a light buckskin tan hackamore with silver clasps. I had no need for a bit because Nero trusted and respected me enough to do what I told him with the reigns alone. I took his halter off and slid the bridle on his head. Just as I was leading him out of the barn I saw someone saunter inside in a long black cloak.  
  
"You look beautiful with him," Snape told me as Nero and I stopped in our tracks and regarded him calmly. I was only ever truly calm while I was with Nero, and the same went for Nero when he was with me. Nero took this opportunity to put is left front leg forward and itch his knee with his nose. I think this was his way of giving Snape and I our privacy. I dropped the reigns, I knew Nero wouldn't go anywhere, and walked over to Snape.  
  
"Would you like to ride with me," I asked matter of factly. As if there was no room for debate or dawdling.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
I quickly saddled a chestnut mare for Snape. I wasn't sure how his riding skills were so I picked the most docile horse I could find and made sure I picked a good soft saddle for him as well. I was riding bareback myself. I preferred it quite a bit to riding with a saddle.  
  
Snape surprised me by putting his left foot in the stirrup and stepping gracefully up into the saddle. I raised an eyebrow at him from atop Nero and he raised one at me in return.  
  
"There are a lot of things about me you don't know," he answered me without my having to ask.  
  
I pulled the reigns off to the left and we took off down the beach, sand flying behind us and the wind blowing against our faces. It was balmy for the beginning of November in Massachusetts and I was happy that since I was home I would at least be able to enjoy it a bit.  
  
"So what did you and my family talk about while I was out here," I asked as I urged Nero into a trot. Snape urged Hecate, his mare into a trot as well and answered.  
  
"You."  
  
"What about me."  
  
"I don't think you should go to the funeral tomorrow."  
  
"Too bad."  
  
"I'm being serious, Acacia. You're still too emotionally touched by this. It's not going to do you any good to see your parents laid in the ground. Trust me. I've done this all before. I speak from personal experience."  
  
"Well, I appreciate your concern but I think you're wrong. Do you know what the last thing I said to my mother was, Severus," I asked him.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"I told her," I stopped then. I swallowed hard. "I told her I wished I'd never have to come home again. And then I got on the Hogwarts Express and I never saw her again. I might as well have told her to drop dead right then and there." I dropped my eyes to the ground and leaned forward on Nero, wrapping my arms around his neck. Nero snorted loudly and shook his head. I started to cry.  
  
I pulled back on the reigns and jumped off, loving the feeling of sand beneath my toes. Nero walked up a little way on the beach and laid down in the sand. He knew how I could be when I got in my walking along the beach moods.  
  
Snape jumped down off his own horse and took the saddle off, laying it on the sand. Hecate went up and laid beside Nero, both of them nuzzling each other and warming themselves in the sun. I plopped down cross legged in the sand and laid back, my face up toward the sun. Snape sat beside me, knees up and hugged by his arms, staring out at the ocean. "I've never seen the ocean before." I sat up and looked at him, incredulous.  
  
"You live on an island and you've never seen the ocean," I asked him, dumbfounded. He laughed.  
  
"You really can be such a smart arse," he answered, good naturedly. He put an arm around my shoulders and I leaned my head on his shoulder. We sat there in silence for a while.  
  
"Ever dug for clams," I asked after a while.  
  
"How could I have dug for clams if I've never seen the ocean," he asked me, as if I had just asked if the sky was orange.  
  
"Well do you want to, Mr. Cynicism?"  
  
He considered for a moment before giving in.  
  
"Roll up your pant legs then, unless you want them to be sopping wet." He did and I took his hand and led him out into the ocean, holding my robe that I had changed into up above my knees with one hand. We waded out to just above our shins and I taught him how to dig in the sand and feel for hard spots, and that you had to get underneath them with your toes before they buried themselves too deep for you to catch them. I got him to untuck his shirt (he had taken his cloak off and left it on the beach) and hold the clams he caught in it. I laughed as I thought to myself that all he needed was a bandanna on his head and he'd look like - well I don't know who he'd look like but he'd look damn funny.  
  
"What are you laughing at," he asked me, looking irritated at having been made fun of for having tried to do something he'd never done before.  
  
"Nothing," I answered between bouts of laughter.  
  
"Nonsense," he pressed, getting more and more upset. I was pretty sure it was fake upset, but it was making me laugh even more. Nero looked up from his resting place on the beach to see what all the commotion was about and to make sure that I was ok. "Stop it!"  
  
"I'm not doing anything!" I was almost doubled over with laughter now, about to lose all my clams.  
  
"You most certainly are," he told me, advancing on me and causing me to back up in order to avoid what I was sure was an inevitable push into the water. The more he advanced, laughing and challenging me, the more I backed up until finally I felt my heel come down hard on a sharp shell. I yelled out in pain and fell backwards, covering myself completely in the salty water. I knew I cut my foot because I could feel the sting of the water in the cut and when I came up for air hissed against the burn.  
  
Nero was on all fours and whinnying indignantly on the beach. 'The big weenie,' I thought to myself. If he was really so protective he would be out here trying to save me from this obviously hostile entity. But I couldn't help but laugh, and laugh I did. Presently I felt Snape, who was laughing as well, scoop me up and carry me to shore, my robe sopping wet and clinging to me and my clams still stuck in the folds of it.  
  
The episode hadn't taken away my grief but it had helped to alleviate it a tiny bit. But by the time I got back to the house it all came flooding back and try as I might I couldn't get past it. When I walked in everyone wanted to know where we had been and why I was wet. I gave them the abridged version and went to find Amanda. Snape came with me. I decided the best thing to do would be to spend a little time with the one person who seemed the least effected by this whole mess. 


	20. Twenty

Twenty  
  
The next day was the funeral. I wasn't ready for it at all, but deep down I don't think I would have been ready for it if it had been delayed a year. That night my uncle Lupus had shown us upstairs to our bedroom. I had been surprised that he hadn't put us in a separate room, but I didn't complain either. I woke up the next morning to a hand running itself up and down my back and Severus whispering "Acacia." He'd wait a couple of minutes and then whisper it again, louder. "Acacia."  
  
I moaned loudly against the mattress. I did not want to wake up.  
  
"Acacia, you need to wake up. It's time to wake up now. Come on." He was shaking me now. I didn't want to be shaken. I wanted to go back to sleep. And I let him know this by extending my left arm from underneath the warm cotton comforter and lifting my middle finger for him and the entire world to see. Judging by the exasperated sigh I heard from directly above me he was not impressed. I dropped by arm and curled it back up underneath me, expecting to be left alone for a while. Instead I got the covers ripped off me and I curled up in the fetal position, moaning in protest.  
  
He leaned down and pulled the pillows off my head and I looked up at him, my brow furrowed and my lips pouting.  
  
"Come on," he said sternly. "You wanted to go today and now it's time to get up and go. You're a strong woman. You can handle this." He offered me his hand from the side of the bed. "And I'll be right there beside you the whole time. I promise."  
  
Well, when he put it that way. I slapped my hand into his and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I hunched over and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. This was going to be a long day. But I could smell sausage and french toast downstairs and that would certainly help get the ball rolling. Severus handed me a towel and pointed me toward the restroom that opened off our bedroom. I raised an eyebrow to him. He was pointing me toward my own bathroom? Judging by the look of him he'd already been there. His hair was wet and sleek and falling around his face in little ringlets. He smelled like my soap - coconuts and jasmine, but that familiar scent of cinnamon and sage was still lingering around him.  
  
I took a quick shower, as quick as my three foot hair would allow, and dried off. I walked back into the bedroom planning to pick out a robe to wear to the funeral. I had brought three different sets of dress robes with me, unsure of which looked the best. When I walked into the bedroom Severus was sitting by the open window in a wooden rocker, the white sheers blowing around him, reading my Chuck Palahniuk book. I wasn't sure which one it was. He had laid out my black dress robes on the bed. I looked from him to the robes and back again.  
  
"I always loved those robes on you," he told me without looking up from his book.  
  
I furrowed my brow. "When have you ever seen me in those robes," I asked him, puzzled.  
  
"You wore them to your first Christmas Ball at Hogwarts, two years ago. You were walking around the gardens, which I had been assigned to chaperone, alone. Dumbledore had decorated them with faeries and you had your hair up in a twist from which half of it fell out and down in ringlets. In that light -" He didn't finish. He didn't need to. "Those robes look the best on you."  
  
I just stood there, floored. I didn't even remember my first Christmas Ball at Hogwarts, let alone seeing Snape there. How on earth could he have remembered that.  
  
"Close your mouth. You'll catch a fly. And get dressed or we'll miss breakfast. I'm famished." All that without even glancing at me.  
  
I dressed quickly, charmed my hair dry, and styled it. I put on a quick touch of make up, something I never did but which my mother was always begging me to do, and was finally ready. I stepped out of the bathroom to find Snape standing with his hands behind his back, waiting to inspect me. He looked me over once and smiled so slightly that the untrained eye wouldn't have been able to observe it. He opened his arms wide and I stepped into them. I hadn't realized it until I'd gotten it, but I'd needed that hug desperately.  
  
We walked down the wooden stairs to find my entire family crammed into the kitchen, eating breakfast somberly. Normally breakfast was a convivial time, where everyone was talking animatedly and joking happily. Today even Amanda seemed tranquilized. I got Snape and I each a plate but when I sat down to eat I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just kind of moved my food around a little to make it look like I ate more than I did and then I tossed the rest of it in the trash.  
  
Before any of us were ready it was time to go.  
  
A witch or wizard's funeral is not like a muggle's funeral. For starters it's almost always held outside. Church is a thing almost unheard of to the wizarding world. We don't attribute a deity to spirituality. Spirit is magic and we worship it by practicing it righteously. The most obvious incarnation of spirit is nature and as such, events such as weddings, funerals, and when possible, births, are all held outdoors.  
  
We all apparated to a graveyard about twenty minutes from the house, where all the members of the family were traditionally buried. Two coffins were set up above the graves and a very old wizard was standing at the head of them. A few of the other, farther removed members of the family were already there. We all stood around the coffins for a few moments, contemplating the events of the past few days in silence. A few more people I had never met showed up, most likely friends, and then the old wizard at the head of the coffins cleared his throat, commanding our attention. We gave it readily.  
  
"The lives of Carla and Marcus McMathewes were cut short far too early," he began. Many of us nodded in assent. "There is nothing one can say to make the pain stop for those of us who loved them, or to right the wrong that has been done. But it is important to remember that no amount of grieving will bring them back." At this I felt Severus' hand on my back, as if he wanted to emphasis this point to me. I moved in closer to him. "We need to remember also that what we send out will come back to us threefold. Carla and Marcus were good people." He motioned toward me, then. "Their daughter, Acacia, is also a good person. We must all rest assured that whomever has caused this grief on their family will be dealt with accordingly. In this life or the next. We should not go seeking justice, for it will be dealt. What we should do is try to pass on the legacy of Carla and Marcus through ourselves and our actions. In our everyday lives let us emulate their goodness and steadfastness." My tears, which had started upon seeing their coffins, were flowing like little rivers down the continents of my cheeks now. Snape had his arm all the way around my shoulder and I was turned toward him, almost crying on his shoulder, but not quite. "Peace be with you all." And that was it. Like I said, wizard funerals aren't all woebegone like muggle funerals. The gravediggers appeared then and prepared to lower the coffins, and everyone stepped forward to toss a flower on the caskets. Myself, I tossed a white lily on each of their coffins before turning and walking away, Snape holding my left arm to steady me and me staring at the ground the whole way. 


	21. Twenty One

Twenty-One  
  
Okay. So maybe Snape was right. Maybe it was a little rough on me, seeing my parents being laid to rest. Maybe it would have been better for me to just stay at home and grieve personally. But I didn't and now I had to deal with that. Snape was right. I was a big girl. I could handle it. And he was there for me.  
  
When we got home that day I didn't feel like doing much. Amanda wanted to go riding but I wasn't up for that. Snape, fascinated by the ocean, wanted to know if I would go sit on the beach with him. I asked him if he was reconsidering living his life as a pasty recluse and then beat myself up for it all day long in my bedroom. Our bedroom. Whatever. I sat in Snape's rocking chair and read Chuck Palahniuk books and smoked. This was the first time I had chain smoked, actually sat and lit one cigarette off my last one, since Michael. Snape had been content to spend most of the day downstairs talking with my family. Primarily he was involved in conversation with my uncle Lupus, though I still couldn't figure out what they were so in love with each other about. This made me even angrier. I couldn't stand not being in on it. But whatever. If thy wanted to have their secret little party down in the living room then Chuck and I could have our own little party right here in the rocker. With cigarettes. So there. I took another hit off my cigarette and turned the page, my hands shaking.  
  
I was thinking that maybe I had a few too many issues for a girl my age. I was thinking that I was still dealing with the fact that I had been emotionally and physically abused for two years by the man that I loved more than anything, then I had moved to a foreign country where I had been ostracized from day one. Jump to getting involved with a man almost twice my age, and my teacher, followed by the unexpected death of my parents by Merlin knows who and living my life worried that he or she may come after me for whatever reason at whatever time with no warning whatsoever. My life was a wildcard. So I turned the page and just kept reading because it seemed that at that very moment the only constant in my life was the fact that I could count on turning the page and finding another one right behind it.  
  
And when I was done with that book? I'd read another one. And when I was done with that one? I'd read another. And when I was done with them all? I'd read them again dammit. I took another hit off my cigarette. The sheers blew in around me and I looked out the window to see Amanda wading out in the ocean, collecting shells. I smiled. I should be out there with her. I should be living my life. I wasn't even twenty yet and I was fucking chain smoking. What would I look like at forty?  
  
Just as I was settling in for another chapter of chaos and mayhem I heard a quiet knock and then the click of the door opening and sliding shut. My aunt Adonna stood in front of the door with a cup of tea and a plate of crackers. Saltines. She knew me too well.  
  
I smiled and put my book down, spine up. I had my feet up on the bed and motioned for her to sit beside me. She handed me my cup and offered me some crackers, which I took. I finished the last hit of my cigarette and tossed it out the window.  
  
"How ya feelin'?"  
  
I half laughed half sighed. The wind blew the sheers farther into the room.  
  
"Severus really loves you."  
  
I looked up at her, taken completely off guard. Where had that come from? He had never even said the "L" word to me yet. What where him and Lupus talking about down there?  
  
"Albus told us all about everything that's happened at Hogwarts in that letter. Lupus let me read it. About your scars and how Severus searched and searched for a way to heal them." She glanced at my arm as if she wanted to see but didn't want to ask. He told us how you've been spending all your time with him -"  
  
"Not all of it," I told her defensively but quietly, and nibbled the edge of a cracker.  
  
She smiled knowingly. "Acacia, I know what you're thinking. About Michael and -"  
  
"I'm not thinking about Michael," I told her, this time not so quietly and more defensively.  
  
"And how he hurt you," she went on. "But Severus isn't like that. He really isn't. Michael was a boy but Severus - Severus is a man. A good, kind, compassionate man. You must know that Albus chose him to come here for more than just protection." She waited to see if I would react. When I didn't she went on nonplussed. "Acacia, he sent him here to meet us. So we could size him up. So we could approve of him. And we do. He loves you Acacia, he's told us that much." I looked up at her again.  
  
Severus told them he loved me before he told me? Was I always the last to know about everything? Merlin's bloody ghost! I wished more than anything I could just be in on everyone's little secrets.  
  
"Well what do you want me to do about it," I asked as I took a sip of my tea and pretended not to care.  
  
Adonna just stared at me. "Accept him, Acacia. For Merlin's sake, let go of the past and accept your future! Severus LOVES you. Don't you understand that? Can't you see it? Or is it just that you don't want to?" She was starting to sound almost angry now.  
  
"He told us that you were like this. This is why he came to us first. He couldn't be sure what kind of a reaction he'd get from you. He didn't know whether you'd laugh or cry or hit him. You're a wild card. You push people away because of what's happened to you in the past. Let it go. Just let it go, darling."  
  
"I hardly think this is the time to be thinking about love." I took another sip of my tea.  
  
"Acacia, not letting him in isn't going to bring them back. It isn't going to catch the killer either. What are you going to do, punish yourself until the real wrongdoer is captured? You'll be waiting a long time, girl. And in the meantime you'll be breaking the heart of a good man. A man who'd kill himself to see you smile. Most of us never see that kind of love, Acacia, and you're a fool to throw it away."  
  
"I'm eighteen years old!" I was on the verge of tears now. This was just too much. I couldn't handle all this. "I'm eighteen years old and an orphan and now I'm expected to just settle down and - and what? Get married? Is that what he wants? He wants me to marry him? And since my dad's dead now he's asking Uncle Lupus' permission instead?" I was yelling now, and Amanda had stopped splashing to turn and look at the house and I could no longer hear voices down in the living room. The world had stopped. We had just lost cabin pressure. 


	22. Twenty Two

Twenty - Two  
  
There was that old familiar click of the door being opened and somehow I knew who it would be. I didn't look up because I didn't need to. I just stared down at my tea. What was all that nonsense Trelawney had been trying to teach us about scrying? I wished I could see my future now. I was sure if I could read the leaves in the bottom of my cup at that moment they would spell out the words, "Acacia, you are a total ass."  
  
I heard Adonna get up and step out of the room. The door shut but only one person had left. I could sense it. Snape took three even steps toward the bed. I could see the hems of his robes swaying in the breeze from the window but I didn't look up. The truth was I felt so horrible about having screamed loud enough to send him running up to see me that I didn't feel worthy to look at him. I felt like a total ass. My hands were shaking so I lit another cigarette, placed my thumb to my temple, and lowered the smoke to my lips, taking a good long hit off of it.  
  
Snape, in all his infinite goodness, reached down from his little heaven and plucked the cigarette out of my fingers, strode over to the window and tossed it out. He turned to look at me then and when he spoke, if it's possible, my heart broke a little more.  
  
"You look so ugly when you do that."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Not a problem."  
  
I still wouldn't look at him. Funny how embarrassment will turn you into the most humble being on the face of the earth.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Sorry for what? Being an insufferable prat or for smoking like a damn chimney?"  
  
"Both. I guess. Or neither. I don't know. Whatever."  
  
I was picking at my nails because my hands were shaking and I couldn't think of anything else to do with them. There was a little wisp of hair that fell down in front of my mouth and every time I breathed in and out it flew around on my breath. Like a spider web.  
  
"Look at you. You're eighteen years old and on the verge of a nervous bloody breakdown. I told you not to go to that funeral didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, Snape, you, in all your infinite wisdom, advised me not to go to my parents' funeral. But I did. Because I'm a bloody sodding prat. Thank you. So much. Have you got any other affirmations for the day or shall I just sit here and chant those? You're a real confidence booster, you know?"  
  
"I wasn't finished." He knelt beside me then, between my rocker and the window, and took my hand in both of his. It was still shaking terribly but he settled it somewhat. "You are an insufferable prat sometimes, but you're also a strong, confident, amazingly brilliant student and woman. You've amazed me since the day you walked through those doors to the great hall. Of course, I could never admit it before now. You were, after all, a damn Yankee." I had been getting a lump in my throat but at that point we both laughed the laugh you give just before you start to cry from happiness. "Your aunt was right. I didn't tell you that I was in love with you because I was afraid of your reaction. I didn't think I could handle being rejected yet again by a woman that I truly did love. But you were wrong about one thing." I did chance a look at him then, and I looked straight in his eyes.  
  
"I would never," and he stressed the word 'never', "ask you to marry me at eighteen years old. That would be absurd. How could you sign your life away like that so soon? And furthermore, how could you think I could ask something like that of you? Silly girl. I just want you to know that I've chosen you. I'll always love you and if you'll have me, someday, I would love it very much if we could be together. But you have too much in your life left to do. You have so much to offer the world that I would be selfish to try to keep you all to myself. It would be like - like trying to cage a wild bird. I wouldn't have the heart to do it. It would just be wrong. So how about this, instead: Just know that there will never be another for me. I want you to live your life and live it well, but always remember that I'll be waiting for you. And when you're ready, and if you're ready, I'll have you forever."  
  
I half laughed half sobbed and pushed that annoying spider web piece of hair back behind my ear. He helped me to my feet and gave me one of the best hugs I'd ever had. "Now can we please go and sit on the beach for a while? We have to leave tomorrow and I want to study the ocean for a while longer before we have to go." I laughed out loud for the first time since I'd fallen in the water. Sitting by the ocean sounded like heaven right at that moment. 


End file.
